


When a Ghost Speaks

by overprimrose



Category: NU'EST
Genre: Adventure, Fantasy, Lots and lots of Secrets, M/M, Magic, Modern Royalty, Romance, side aaron kwak | aron/choi minki | ren, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 07:43:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 62,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19902211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overprimrose/pseuds/overprimrose
Summary: If Minhyun knows anything about magic, it's that it's dangerous. If he knows anything about Jonghyun, it's that Minhyun regrets losing him eight years ago.Balancing those two things isn't easy, especially not when Jonghyun returns, very much magical and very much entangled in plots neither of them fully understand.





	1. Then

**Author's Note:**

> warnings (for the entire fic): some violence

_Eight Years Ago_

Dongho had opened the door, but it was Jonghyun who locked it behind them. The key is a rough cut of warmed brass in Dongho's fingers, and he turns it over and over. His shoulders are hunched, his arms in front of his body. The pocket-sized space never fails to make him feel massive, despite how they can fit all five of them in here. Dongho bumps a mop and scrambles to stabilize it, the phantom crash already too loud. Its head is wet with soapy remnants. Dongho grimaces.

He and Jonghyun are in a supply closet, with brooms as their witnesses and cleaning sprays keeping the minutes, though there are few things to jot down. Dongho's run fast out of words, and the voiceless silence has the floor.

Jonghyun rubs at his hand. It's a nervous tic he picked up back when the scar on his palm was raised and angry. He's all big eyes and desperation and fidgeting, fidgeting, fidgeting. Like a wasp in the fall, flying and flying and flying even though winter is on the horizon. 

Dongho tries to respond, but he doesn't know what to say. His previous good mood is shattered like ice, crunching under his feet, now ground into dust. 

Jonghyun prompts him, finally. “What do I do?” he asks. His school uniform is wrinkled and his hair in disarray, but that's nothing unusual. The weird part is the way his tie is hastily loosened, the top buttons of his shirt undone. Jonghyun's hand rests firmly on his chest, masquerading as though it's on his heart, but really concealing his biggest secret.

His eyes are red-rimmed, and his clothes hang off him. Minhyun has been pestering him for days to admit what was wrong, and Minki started dropping crude hints about it, coming across as exasperated and caring and forceful, in the way only Minki can. 

Even Aaron, who’s been more distant than ever with his graduation storming closer, offered to talk it all out with Jonghyun. Whenever he wanted, Aaron had promised. Alone. Without interruptions. In this very closet, even, because the key in Dongho's hands is actually Aaron's, and this was Jonghyun and Aaron's space before it was all five of theirs. 

“Please say something,” Jonghyun begs. The dingy light catches on the tears in Jonghyun's eyes. It isn't enough to make them sparkle, too yellowed and dim. Any less light and Dongho could've pretended the lines on Jonghyun’s shoulder had been rouge shadows. They're all covered up again now, those bruise-colored marks, slightly swollen and surrounded by reddened skin, as though Jonghyun had traced his veins with a pen, lines repeated over and over until the ink stuck. 

Dongho doesn’t have an answer, but he speaks anyway.

“We can get everyone together,” he says. “Talk about it. We’ll figure something out.” 

Jonghyun isn’t satisfied. He bites at his bottom lip and half-turns away, and Dongho doesn’t blame him. He didn’t actually give Jonghyun any answers, after all, only deferred to the group’s judgment. That’s in his nature; he isn’t meant to lead. Doesn’t want to, anyway. Dongho may be Jonghyun's oldest friend, but he has no idea why Jonghyun chose him, of their whole group.

Right as class ended, before Jonghyun grabbed him, Dongho had had a funny story to tell:

Aaron stopped by Dongho’s classroom. He’d been sent by his language arts teacher with a book she’d meant to pass back to Dongho's teacher earlier. Dongho had made a face at him, and Aaron had rolled his eyes. Then Dongho had shot him a hand symbol that meant a colloquial ‘bite me’ to the five of them, just because he could.

Aaron had responded with a much more recognizable middle finger, got caught, and was still being berated for inappropriate behavior when class let out.

Dongho had been laughing when Jonghyun found him, but now he’s forgotten the story entirely.

Jonghyun’s forehead is sweaty and his skin pale. Like he has a fever. Maybe he’s sick. Maybe this entire thing is a sickness, and now it’s corrupting Jonghyun. That's what they say about magic, after all. It drives people crazy. It makes them dangerous. 

There are smudges under Jonghyun's eyes, similar in color and yet so fundamentally different from the marks on his shoulder. 

“Does anyone else know?” Dongho asks. Exhaustion creeps in, and it's a worn voice, an antiquated voice. It’s been only a few months since Dongho was in a similar situation. A few months since Minhyun’s secret clocked him in the nose, and only his friend's panic convinced Dongho to agree to keep everything quiet. As though the secret hadn't already been on its last legs. In the end, it hadn't mattered. Everything collapsed only a couple weeks later. 

The five of them are all still smarting from that whole situation, and now this secret is bigger. It's a monster. Jonghyun's afraid he's a monster.

“Of course not,” Jonghyun says. His face sags. He rubs his hand over his eyes, but it does nothing to wake him up. “Maybe I should just—turn myself in. It would be better for everyone.” 

“No,” Dongho says. His hesitation vanishes, replaced by a rabid fear that devours his gut and threatens his lungs. They'd take Jonghyun away if they knew. He'd be gone. Dongho might never see him again, if someone finds out Jonghyun's magical, and Dongho can't imagine a single worse thing in the world. “This doesn’t mean you’re bad, right? You’re not bad.” He hadn’t meant for there to be any question in his voice. Dongho wets his lips and considers repeating it again.

“I guess.” Listless. Jonghyun closes off in bad situations. Later, people will tell him that’s a good thing. 

Dongho’s eyes return to Jonghyun’s shoulder. Without him actively holding the shirt open, the lines are covered, only the tip of the longest one peeking out. Jonghyun says it started out as only one, the size of a pencil eraser. Now the longest line is half the length of the pencil itself. 

“Jonghyun.” Dongho’s firmer now. Loyalty's always been his best quality. He’ll tease his friends till yesterday, but he’s on their side. Unquestionably. “You’re not bad. We’ll get the others and—”

“Not Minhyun,” Jonghyun says. His voice isn’t abrupt enough to be sharp, but it’s more lifelike than before. “I can’t tell Minhyun.” 

“He’d want to help.” And maybe Dongho should defend him more, defend Minhyun’s right to know if they tell Minki and Aaron too, but any additional words stick in his throat. Dongho isn’t prone to poetics, never has been, but maybe now he gets why people say secrets leave gaping wounds. Minhyun’s not evil or anything, but he is a liar. 

“I don’t want to.” Jonghyun doesn’t try to defend his decision, only shakes his head, and that ends that. They won’t tell Minhyun. “I don’t care what Minhyun thinks. I can’t do it, Dongho. You’ve heard him before.” 

“Okay, fine,” Dongho says. Maybe Jonghyun’s right. Maybe it’ll keep things simpler. Maybe Dongho has no right to question who Jonghyun will tell and who he won’t for something like this. “Then Minki and Aaron hyung. Minki might know what to do.” He's always been their most resourceful friend, or maybe Minki's just better at accepting no answer is a bad answer when they brainstorm. 

“You don’t think they’ll be angry?” Jonghyun digs his nails into his palm. He’s never understood why characters in things did that to calm down. It hurts, and he’s only more on edge. Jonghyun goes back to tracing the scar on his palm, now only a whitened line across rough skin.

“Angry? For what?” Even though Dongho knows.

Jonghyun knows he knows.

“You haven’t hurt anyone,” Dongho says. “This is—it’s not a big deal, yeah? Yeah. You’ll tell Hyung, and he’ll tell you that anyone can do bad things, and just because you’re magical doesn’t mean you will.” 

“How do you know.” Jonghyun tries to smile and fails so badly it stabs Dongho. He gets a passing urge to grab his own heart. “Maybe I’m a horrible person.” Jonghyun tilts his head up, like he cares about the ceiling's single bulb, but his focus is on the tears spilling down his face. There are too many to re-absorb. 

“You're not a bad person.” 

“Well, I’m not a good person either. Now I’m gonna blow up or something and hurt people and—” Jonghyun’s words catch in his throat, and Dongho averts his eyes to give him some privacy. 

There are brooms beside them, and somehow that’s what grounds Dongho. They’re in the supply closet Aaron stole a key to, and Dongho had taken the key from him yesterday. He’d planned to give it back, but Aaron had been caught flipping him off by their teacher, and Jonghyun had approached Dongho directly after class.

“You’re not bad,” Dongho repeats. “We’ll figure it out. Maybe we should tell Minhyun, he's got to know more about this.” 

It’s not in Jonghyun’s nature to keep things hidden, and Minhyun gets wheedling and intrusive whenever he senses some secret. Dongho and Minki are only too quick to shove him away, but Jonghyun and Aaron indulge him just a little too much. 

“It’s illegal for me to not turn myself in,” Jonghyun reminds him. “Minhyun knowing about me and not doing it has to be, like—I don’t know. Treason, or something. Against his family.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong, and you won’t. You’re not going to hurt people.”

Jonghyun sends back a weak smile. His shoulders are stooped, his arms wrapped around himself. He looks down, and almost as though he only now remembers about it, redoes the buttons of his uniform. When he finishes, the knot of his tie is crooked. 

“Minhyun hates magic,” Jonghyun says, his focus still on his shirt. “You’ve heard him.” 

“He’s just scared he’s got it too,” Dongho says. Casually, like it’s not one of Minhyun’s biggest fears thrown out in the silence of a broom closet. Maybe Dongho hasn’t totally gotten past Minhyun’s lying either. "He's the one that's got it running in his family." Dongho had grown up too close to the castle to ever forget the reactions to the Queen banishing her own brother. 

Jonghyun's face is still wet with tears. “Don’t say that. And be quieter.” 

Dongho had been insensitive. Jonghyun is crying, after all, and they're not here to talk about Minhyun. He lowers his voice, even though it was already a whisper.

“What can you do?” he asks. “Your—magic, or whatever?” 

Jonghyun shakes his head. “Nothing? Yet, I guess. I dunno. I would know if I did magic, right?” 

“Unless you’re making lightning bolts in your sleep.”

"Don't be dumb," Jonghyun says, but his voice shakes, like he's scared he might actually be throwing electricity around in the middle of the night. Dongho regrets the joke.

“It’ll be okay. We’ll tell Minki and Hyung and maybe Minhyun and we’ll figure something out. Lots of people hide magic.”

“Yeah, and then they kill people.” 

“You’d never do that.” 

Jonghyun raises his hand to his shoulder. His mouth forms a thin line, and he undoes his tie and buttons again, his movements overly practiced, like he checks it a dozen times a day. Dongho doesn't put that past him. 

The mark is still a small collection of lines crisscrossing his skin. Almost like dirt, like Jonghyun could wipe it off whenever he wants. Dongho’s eyes lock onto it, but now for a different reason than shock alone. 

“Jonghyun, it’s bigger.” The leading line pokes up towards Jonghyun's collarbone. The difference is minimal, but it's there.

Jonghyun's eyes widen. “What? No, it’s not.” He stretches his shirt more and twists his neck to see it better. “You’re wrong.”

“Okay,” Dongho says uneasily. He’s not going to argue. He only saw it once, after all. Besides, the mark should only grow if Jonghyun uses magic, and he hasn't done anything.

“I just won’t use it,” Jonghyun says. “That’ll work, it has too. And maybe—Minki has makeup and stuff, right? Or I can say it’s a birthmark. Or a bruise.” 

Dongho nods. It doesn’t look like a birthmark or a bruise. It looks like a magical mark, the lines spreading out into Jonghyun's veins like an infection.

“It’ll work,” Jonghyun insists. He doesn’t bother facing Dongho to say it because Dongho isn't who Jonghyun needs to convince. 

Then Jonghyun's gaze snaps up. It burns, and Dongho swallows under its intensity. “Right?” Jonghyun pleads.

“Yeah,” Dongho says, and he tries to iron out his face, to keep his white lie off the surface. He has no idea what Jonghyun will do. He knows no more now than when Jonghyun first asked him.

But maybe the others will. They’ll tell them—Minhyun or not, it doesn’t matter—and Aaron will smooth things over and Minki will be as resourceful as always, and they’ll talk about it later--maybe even in this very closet. It isn't the best place for admitting secrets, but it works in a pinch. Minhyun proved that.

They'll cram all five of them in here, and Dongho will stand halfway into a mop, and Minki will be half in Jonghyun's arms, and it will be like they’ve done so many times in the past two years. 

All five of them will fit, but right now it’s only Dongho and Jonghyun. The closet is filled to bursting. 

It's Jonghyun who opens the door, peeks out, then sneaks out. Dongho follows, and the door shuts behind them. 


	2. In Memoriam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s been a long time,” Jonghyun said. His voice was quiet and rough and deeper than Minhyun remembered. “It’s good to see you again, Minhyun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note that I used the name Sunhwa for Minhyun's sister bc i don't like using names of real ppl who aren't celebrities in fics. Also, I used a random place generator to get "Sonchaek." If it means something, that's unintentional

_Present time_

“They haven’t even done your makeup yet, and you’re already staring at yourself.” 

Minhyun startled. He found his own face first through the mirror's glass, then his older sister. She rolled her eyes at him, right as he faced her. Sunlight spiked through the window and burned his drapes to a blinding white. 

“Do you have to be here?” Minhyun asked, with a hint of petulance. Sunhwa messed with a vase of flowers, shifting it across his dresser. She left it too close to Minhyun's candle. “You’re not ready either.” 

It couldn't have been too long. Minhyun had only planned to change into his suit, if it had been too long, someone would’ve grabbed him. 

“You should appreciate my company,” Sunhwa said. Her dress was black, with long sleeves and a high neckline. She hadn’t yet put her sash on, nor the ornate silver star that would go on her left side. “Better than you wallowing alone.” 

“I’m being respectful.” Today was a day of mourning. 

“Sure,” Sunhwa said. She smoothed her dress, even though it didn't need it. “Hey, you don’t have to talk about whatever it is, but at least get some makeup on. You look like you died yesterday.” 

Minhyun crossed his eyes at her but didn’t bother to respond. He straightened his posture when she looked him up and down. 

Sunhwa scoffed. “And you buttoned your shirt wrong. Really, Minhyun? Do you need someone to do it for you?” 

Minhyun looked down. Sure enough, one of the buttons was misaligned, and he’d managed to put his vest on over it without noticing. A patch of his chest showed, and Minhyun’s heart jumped. He covered the skin and spun back towards the mirror. Pale-faced. Eye bags. Sunhwa was right. He should’ve stayed in his grave. 

“I’ll be ready in a minute,” he said, his voice measured. “Will you leave?”

“Protecting your modesty?” 

“Noona, please.” 

But Sunhwa still hesitated. Maybe even more now. 

Minhyun’s hand still covered his chest, even though the patch that had showed was only a thin oval near his sternum, far from overly revealing. 

“Are you sure you can do this?” she asked. 

“I have to, and I can. There’s no reason why I can’t when I do it literally every—” 

“Minhyun, hey. Hey.”

He closed his eyes, eyelids so gentle they could’ve still been open. Then he faced Sunhwa again.

Sometimes her face was his own but through a funhouse mirror. The same eyes. The same mouth. The same delicacy to her features. 

They used their faces differently, expressed everything differently. Sunhwa bit the inside of her cheek when she was uncertain. She crossed her hands behind her back when helpless.

“You’ve only been back for a couple days,” Sunhwa said, hands behind her back and chewing on her cheek. 

“And I returned special for this,” Minhyun reminded her. He’d leave again soon enough. “It’s a ten-minute speech. I do more than that literally every day.” 

Sunhwa took the out, and Minhyun sank with relief. “We’re leaving soon,” was all she said. “You need to get ready.”

“I’ll be out soon.”

Sunhwa sighed, but she’d shifted her attention to the window. She adjusted the blinds so the sun didn’t invade Minhyun’s room. He squashed his annoyance. She always got like this before public appearances. Sunhwa would much rather work in the background than stand before a crowd. 

Minhyun was the opposite. 

Their mother was a planner, the kind who organized life to the minute. In many ways, it was how she’d held the country together. It was also the prevailing force that had shaped Minhyun and Sunhwa’s lives.

Sunhwa grew up as the heiress apparent. She learned from tutors and studied government, and the Queen inducted her into an order by the time she’d turned twenty. No one understood the ins-and-outs of running the country better, and one day, Sunhwa would be Queen. 

Minhyun was the bridge between the people and the Crown. He’d grown up among the people, despite being a vaguely known enigma. Assumed to be a faraway tendril of the Hwang family, his name only an antiquated connection to the crown.

What other ruler would have their child attend a public school, rather than learn from tutors? He was an example of the Queen’s faith in their own country, and he was the beloved young prince, known for traveling the country, for speaking with their citizens. 

Normally, he was proud of the life he led, but today, of all days, reminded him he was a liar. 

Minhyun undid his vest and fixed the buttons. He watched his face through the mirror, rather than his hands, only confirming he’d fixed the problem after he finished. Minhyun didn’t have any sashes or stars to add to his jacket. The Queen believed in awarding the royal family for their contributions to politics and to the country, and Minhyun doubted he’d receive any official honors until he completed his military service, at least. 

He closed his bedroom door behind him. Most staff weren’t allowed in the personal area of the palace, and so he met the woman who would adjust his hair and makeup for the cameras in the allocated room. She greeted him with a quick bow and a ‘your highness,’ as he took a seat at the vanity. 

They didn’t speak as she made quick work of his appearance. This wasn’t a ceremonial event, so the only touches she made were meant to make him look appropriately poised and better on television. 

He met Sunhwa in their foyer. She was half turned away from the windows, almost facing the wall. 

“You’re gonna do great,” Minhyun said, just as their driver neared. They went outside, and Minhyun opened the car door for her. 

“It’s weird without Mom here,” Sunhwa admitted. This was the first year they’d attend the memorial alone. Their mother usually made it of utmost importance to attend, but she’d told them she had a mandatory meeting on the same day. He wasn’t even sure where she was, though he suspected with some foreign diplomat.

Minhyun buckled his seatbelt. He’d gotten off easier than Sunhwa. His speech would open the event and honor the victims and their families. It was Sunhwa who had to speak about the future, and the steps they had put into place fifty years ago and how they’d succeeded in ensuring the disaster would never happen again.

Minhyun made near the same speech every year. The only reason he was needed at all was their mother’s emphasis on remembering the past and reflecting their hope for the future. 

That, and the people wanted him there. 

Their mother was a planner, but some plans went astray. It had been hard for the country to forget how only months after Minhyun was introduced as the prince for the first time, they’d found magic in his very school.

If only they knew. 

Minhyun was a fake. A liar with magic curled around his memories. It sucked the warmth from the air.

He was cold. Even in his suit. Minhyun hugged himself and took a deep breath. 

Losing control of himself wasn’t an option. Letting memories drown him was unfathomable. This would be broadcasted through the entire country, and the entire world would judge them.

Foreign democracies liked to call them stuck in the past, to accuse the monarchy of keeping them so. Like they didn’t boast the strongest public education system and healthcare system of the entire continent. 

The car stopped, and the signal for them to exit arrived. Minhyun loosened his shoulders and blinked himself back into focus. He could do this. He did this all the time. The crowd outside was small; mostly elected representatives. Distinguished guests and all that. As always, though, Minhyun found the section in the very front. 

The victims’ families. This day was for them, in remembrance, and as a promise it would never, ever happen again. 

Their presence was announced—as though everyone hadn’t noticed them already anyway—and they made their way into the memorial. There were about fifty chairs arranged, and the men and women wore black. The front two rows were reserved for the family members of the victims, as always.

“Your highness!” One of their PR team directors waved him over. Minhyun was shuffled into the appropriate area as politely as possible. He took the whole thing with a smile; there really was no way to organize a public appearance without some rushing. 

“You’ve reviewed the speech?”

“Of course,” Minhyun said. 

“Good. Teleprompter’s a bit left from the podium.” 

Minhyun had never seen the teleprompter anywhere but to the left, but he didn’t mind the refresher. Even if it was delivered in a hushed voice, right on the cusp on where news cameras were rolling. He stood off to the side, even as Sunhwa took her seat. Minhyun was the first real speaker. Sunhwa was the last. 

He stood at the side of the stage as a woman called everyone’s attention to the stage. She welcomed them, and the National Anthem was sung. Another woman on the side of the stage translated everything into sign language.

The woman introduced him, and then he approached the podium. Minhyun hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d told Sunhwa he spoke publicly on the daily. It was something with which he was well-experienced.

He was shaking. Shivering. The summer sun was frozen. 

The stage was decorated in white flowers. The first time he attended this event, back when he’d been seventeen and unused to speeches, the victims’ families had included some children, kids who hadn’t been born until after the tragedy but had been affected nonetheless. They’d lost a grandparent or a great uncle or some family member. 

Minhyun related. And was a liar. All at once. 

The past could be so loud sometimes. Minhyun had long-learned how a person could be a ghost, even without being dead. Today, he was haunted by a poltergeist. The air was cold. 

Minhyun stood with his back straight. Sunlight brightened the crowd to an impersonal white. 

“I was born twenty-five years after the Sonchaek Disaster. I first learned of it as a kid, on our Day of Remembrance. Back then, I was far too young to comprehend it, and even now, I cannot imagine it.” 

Thirty-six names were written on the memorial, engraved in imposing, permanent marble. 

“Forty-nine years ago, the street exploded. Dust flew into the air, so thick that no one could see. Cars swerved to avoid each other and avoid the buildings. There was nothing anyone could do, and yet, some people still left their vehicles.”

Some of those responders would speak later, Minhyun knew. They always did, even though now even the youngest was in his seventies. 

“Bravely, they walked through the streets and found injured victims. These responders led the victims to safety, again and again. Person by person, they aided the injured. Until the powerlines caught fire.”

Minhyun stopped. He surveyed the crowd, and the stage lights prevented him from seeing anything but blurs. 

“That was forty-nine years ago. Before I was born, the streets and buildings were rebuilt. The policies changed, to prevent further domestic terrorism. We reacted quickly, and as a result, I grew up in a safer city and a safer country. Nothing like the Sonchaek Disaster has ever happened again.” 

Minhyun’s breath stuttered, and he swallowed, though he disguised it as an easy pause. The noon sun shone over the crowd. They must be sweating. Even Minhyun was sweating, with the weather and the hot lights and the freezing cold.

His trembling hands grasped the podium.

A deep breath. Pull it back together.

“I would like to welcome all our distinguished guests here today. Today, we remember the victims of the Sonchaek Disaster, and we remember the responders. It is a day of mourning and a day of pride. We have learned from our past and made our country a better place, a safer place, and a place without magical disasters.” 

They had this event every year. Because the past couldn’t be forgotten. It was of utmost importance to the country and to the royal family. Minhyun’s speech continued.

 _We should take pride in our zero-tolerance policy with magic,_ it went. _We will protect everyone for generations to come._

Minhyun stood stone-faced at the end. Proud. Cold.

Across from them was the true memorial. It was an imposing marble structure, arches leading into a dome, where people could enter and pay respects to the people who’d lost their lives. It creeped Minhyun out despite its somber beauty.

It belonged to ghosts and was watched by a liar.

He exited the stage.

The cold had crept into his muscles and moving made it only more obvious. Luckily, his only remaining duty was to join the crowd and listen to the other speakers. He made his way to his reserved chair in the first row behind the victims’ families.

He sat beside his and Sunhwa’s personal security guard. It was somewhat rare for him to have a bodyguard so close. Minhyun went many places with less protection, but those were random days, not this. 

If there was going to be another magical attack, what better day and place than here and now? But they’d never run into any trouble, thankfully. 

Sunhwa sat beside him, tension buried in her form. Minhyun shifted to get comfortable in his seat, and his gaze stumbled upon a man in the audience, far, far away. 

He was staring. Minhyun averted his eyes before he could register anything other than the strange familiarity of the man. All attention should be on the speaker on the stage. 

One of their advisors was speaking. “As of now, we are the only country in this region to ban magic in its entirety, and that is something to be proud of. It takes strength to make change.”

The audience clapped, Minhyun included, and the advisor went on.

The goosebumps on Minhyun’s arms finally receded, and he sucked in a breath deeper than he’d been able to take before. It was warm. Too warm, really, but there was no other option than to have this event outside.

Minhyun spent the rest of his time watching the translator as she signed, both pleased and unsatisfied to see the amount he’d retained. Once upon a time, he could’ve held a full conversation wordlessly. 

Sunhwa had stumbled on a word in her speech, though she’d handled it well. Minhyun had mentally winced with her. She would beat herself up for that.

And then the event was over. The woman who'd begun the event brought about its end. 

Minhyun stood. He had no wish to spend longer than necessary here, and if the speeches were over, that meant regrouping with Sunhwa and returning to the castle. Of course, that ignored the hour or so of polite socializing between them and their exit, but the end was in sight. 

He surveyed the area to see who’d approach him, and in the edges of the audience, spotted eyes staring at him. The same man, hardly moved from where he’d first seen him. Minhyun squinted. There was something familiar about the man. Shockingly familiar. Minhyun’s mind fired and connected all the wrong bridges.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened, but there weren’t any ghosts here. Minhyun pulled himself together. Jonghyun might not be dead, but he had long left Minhyun’s life. The only reason Minhyun remembered him so strongly here was because this was the one place Minhyun discussed magic. It made logical sense—except they still stared at each other. 

The watchful eyes belonged to a small man, with thin shoulders and a thinner figure. Minhyun had a few centimeters on him. 

He didn’t realize he was approaching until the man bowed to him, and Minhyun jolted to a halt.

“Who are you?” Minhyun demanded. Abrupt. Inappropriate. He hardly noticed. 

“Your highness,” the man said. Minhyun almost expected him to dissipate away, but he wasn’t a ghost. He was Jonghyun, even though Jonghyun had only ever been a kid and a ghost, never a man. 

Goosebumps rose on Minhyun’s arms. Sixteen-years-old and scared and incapable of keeping important secrets. 

The man blinked too much, tiredness etched into him. His clothes passed for formal, but their rumpled, messy nature ruined it. 

People must be looking; Minhyun had rushed off in the wrong direction and now gawked at this stranger. He’d abandoned Sunhwa for this stranger.

Jonghyun would never, ever be near Minhyun and would never, ever, ever be here. 

“I’m sorry,” Minhyun murmured. “I mistook you for someone else.” Except the resemblance was still there. Jonghyun looked the part; it was everything else that was wrong.

Minhyun hadn’t managed more than an hour’s worth of sleep last night. 

The man took his time to answer, cracked lips on a sunken face. Minhyun wished time would restart. 

“It’s been a long time,” Jonghyun said. His voice was quiet and deep and rougher than Minhyun remembered. “It’s good to see you again, Minhyun.”

“Jonghyun,” Minhyun breathed, and it came out almost like a prayer. “What are you—you’re here? I thought—” He’d lost control of his voice. It disappeared and apparated back all on its own. 

“Want to walk with me?” Jonghyun asked, and Minhyun followed. 

High school Jonghyun, with his uniform and his hair shaggy. His hand curled around a chain-link fence, his smile easy and his eyes sparkling. _Watch how I do it. It’s easy. Just follow me._

The leader of their group. The glue, invisible until it was gone. 

Minhyun’s hands were sweating. There were goosebumps all over his arms. 

Jonghyun led Minhyun into the true memorial. He passed through the doors like he wasn’t magical, like he wasn’t known for being magical. Minhyun flashed hot and cold and then colder on his way through. 

Before them was a painting, a mural of the cityscape. It was stunning. There were religious symbols and symbols of the royal family woven through the crowded scene, but the focal point was the crowds of people, the detailed people, the different people. This was their hope.

If Jonghyun noticed that Minhyun was sitting as far away from him as possible, he didn’t say anything. Jonghyun leaned back into the metal, a somber smile on his lips.

“You look so different,” Jonghyun said. “Sorry that we’re meeting—like this.” His voice didn’t echo. The marble stole it away. 

“You look different too,” Minhyun said. He looked like things hadn’t gone well for him.

“Do I?” Jonghyun murmured. His features had settled into adulthood but were all the same. “Do you know where Minki is? Or Dongho or Aaron? I couldn’t find them.”

He’d come here because he couldn’t find anyone. This was the one place Minhyun would have to be. Minhyun rested his hands on his thighs. They were trembling. 

“I haven’t talked to them in a long time,” Minhyun said. 

Silence. 

He’d had a reason. Promise.

“We can find them,” Minhyun said, and Jonghyun stared. “Tomorrow. Or whenever you can. Where are you staying? Your parents? Or—or—” 

Jonghyun was shaking his head. “I don’t have a place.”

Oh. Minhyun's thoughts ground to a halt. Unless--

This was a bad idea. An awful idea. But if Minhyun didn't do anything, Jonghyun would slip through his fingers again, and Minhyun would never, ever see him again.

“Stay with me then. For a couple days, and--and we can find them. Promise.”

“I can’t ask you for that.” Jonghyun spoke like a statue. 

“I’m offering,” Minhyun said firmly. “You know I have room.” He would do whatever Jonghyun wanted. He’d figure it out. They’d arrest Jonghyun for his proximity to Minhyun, for his presence at this memorial if they so much as searched his name, but Minhyun would find a way. 

Jonghyun had come to see him. His agreement was all Minhyun needed. 

“I am sorry for coming here,” Jonghyun said.

“I know you are.” 

It was meant as comfort but Jonghyun cringed like he’d been struck. 

“We can go now,” Minhyun promised. “Get you out of here.”

“Don’t you need to stay?” 

“No,” he said. “We’ll find Sunhwa and go. There’s room for you in the car. And because—because you’re here, they won’t even send you through security.”

This was one of the most heavily protected events in the country. Minhyun had no idea how Jonghyun had gotten inside, but Minhyun wasn’t about to question him.

“I’ll be okay. If you need longer. As long as you’re okay with me being here.” 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Jonghyun.” The intensity of Minhyun’s voice caused a line between Jonghyun’s brows, then a series of fast blinks. “You never did anything wrong.” 

Minhyun had had one final conversation with Jonghyun so many times in his head. Over and over. He’d built dozens of scripts and didn’t care whether Jonghyun stuck to a single one. 

“You haven’t seen me in seven years.”

Eight years. Over eight.

“You’re my friend,” Minhyun said. “Always have been.”

“But everything’s different now,” Jonghyun said, like he was arguing. He stopped and closed his eyes, then scrubbed a hand over his face. It scratched against his stubble. “I don’t know why I came back here. I should’ve—”

He thinned his lips. His shoulders slumped.

“We’ll go back to the palace,” Minhyun decided. “Get you settled in. Have you eaten?” 

“I can work or something to make up for it. If you want. Pay you back.”

Minhyun wished he could reach out, but Jonghyun was jittery, eyes darting about like he was counting shadows, and Minhyun failed to bridge the distance between them. 

“We can get your car in the morning,” Minhyun said softly.

“I don’t have one.”

“How’d you get here?”

“Hitch-hiked.” 

“That’s dangerous,” Minhyun said, like it mattered now. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“I needed to find someone.”

“Why? Are you okay? Do you need help?” 

Jonghyun only shook his head, and Minhyun didn’t know which question he was answering. But he wouldn’t press here. This cold, cold place where people were stolen away and turned to stone. 

The door closed behind them with a soft bang. “I need to tell Sunhwa,” Minhyun said. “Before we leave.”

Jonghyun leaned against the trunk of a birch tree, clearly planning to wait while Minhyun did that. Minhyun frowned. He didn’t want Jonghyun out of his sight.

High above their heads, the white bark peeled from the branches, but near the ground, it was brown and cracked. 

“Here, come on,” Minhyun said. He spun around and prayed Jonghyun would follow but didn’t dare check.

Reaching Sunhwa took no time at all. She had clearly finished socializing, and she spotted Minhyun before he saw her. She masked annoyance under a blank face.

“Where’d you go?” she hissed in Minhyun’s ear, rather than a greeting. “I didn’t see you anywhere.” There were groups of politicians still talking, still greeting each other. Minhyun was just glad no one stopped him. 

“It’s not important,” he said. “Look, there’s someone else coming back to the palace with us.” No point dancing around the point. 

“What?” 

“Noona, please,” he said. Nervous energy strangled him, and he gave in to the temptation to check on Jonghyun. He tilted his face to the ground, like he didn’t care about Minhyun’s conversation. “I’ll explain later, but he has to come.”

“Who is he?” 

Minhyun saw Jonghyun as Sunhwa must’ve for a beat—slumped shoulders, inappropriate clothes, and dark marks like bruises under his eyes. 

“Not here,” Minhyun repeated. “And not in the car, okay? Leave him alone. He’s scared.” Like Jonghyun couldn’t hear them. He didn’t look very scared, scuffing one of his shoes along the concrete. 

Sunhwa’s emotions were written on a funhouse mirror, as clear as words. 

“Trust me,” Minhyun said. 

Her gaze was heavy on his back, but Minhyun pushed through it. He spared the barest of polite smiles for the people they passed. Jonghyun fell in behind him, trailing awkwardly. Like a follower. 

Like an empty desk in a classroom. The missing glue of a deteriorating, once-effortless friendship.

Their car was sleek, black, and hopefully inconspicuous. As expected, their driver didn’t ask questions. Neither did their bodyguard. Sunhwa’s questions spilled from her eyes, but none from her mouth. Minhyun was grateful.

Jonghyun blended into the leather. He was wearing all black. Jonghyun had always liked to look cool, but he’d also once had a thing for bright colors. He’d been cute, back then, but he had hated when Minhyun told him that. 

If Sunhwa knew who Jonghyun was, she’d never allow him into the car, let alone near Minhyun. Jonghyun had risked everything to come here, had put his complete trust in Minhyun by coming here.

It tasted like forgiveness, and it wasn’t what Minhyun deserved, but he wouldn’t let this go to waste.

Minhyun wouldn’t let Jonghyun slip through his fingers again. This time he was an adult, and he had control of the situation. Minhyun had everything under control. 

The memorial wasn’t far from the palace. 

Passing the gate required identification for most, but it opened the moment the man working it recognized their car. Minhyun spared him a quick nod—he’d known the man’s name once, but his face had blurred in Minhyun’s memories, nothing more or less than normal. 

Jonghyun said nothing. Looked out the window at the gardens. To the best of Minhyun’s knowledge, Dongho still worked on the palace grounds. He would tell Jonghyun that later. Maybe it would make him smile. 

Their car used the royal family’s personal entrance, as usual, and their bags were searched, as usual. 

Jonghyun had no bag, and Minhyun shuffled him past where anyone would ask his name. He never brought anyone over, didn’t even know the policy for it. Maybe he could find out later, after he and Jonghyun had a chance to talk without being buried under suffocating marble. 

For now, he rode on the staff’s assumptions that clearly, if Jonghyun had arrived in Minhyun and Sunhwa’s personal vehicle and entered with Minhyun’s hand resting lightly on his back, he was meant to be here. 

Then they were inside, and technically, Minhyun had committed treason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed, and I appreciate all kudos and comments! They make my day :)


	3. Foundational

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have a message for an old friend of mine,” Minhyun said. “Choi Minki.”

Once upon a time, Minhyun’s father pulled him aside to talk about the nature of people. Minhyun had absorbed it all like a great secret, puffing out his little chest when his dad said he was old enough to hear and understand. He'd clambered onto his dad's lap and sat at his desk like he had so many times previously. Minhyun liked to pretend it was his papers and programs scattered across the dark wood, and he'd organize it all into piles, with his dad's help whenever he came across a word he didn't know. 

Sitting at the desk, on his father's lap, Minhyun stared a map of the world in the eyes. Sometimes, when his dad was free, Minhyun would point at any country in the world, and his dad would tell a story where they traveled there together. 

Minhyun could travel anywhere. 

But first, he had to go to school. Public school, where he would slide into life among other kids his age. Sunhwa had told him, hands curled into fists, that she hoped no one there liked him, but Minhyun didn’t mind. He knew a secret. One of his mother’s ladies-in-waiting had overheard them, and she told him later that Sunhwa was only sad she couldn’t go. 

_Sometimes people act angry when they're sad,_ she said.

Minhyun knew a secret, and he could keep a secret. He had to. 

He had known already, of course, that he wasn’t to be the prince at this school. Minhyun was a student. Only a student. No one would know who he was, not even the teachers. 

_People talk,_ his father, the prince consort, said. _People always talk._

If even one person knows your secret, you may as well tell the whole world. 

The message sunk in, and at the time Minhyun had understood the words and even the gravity was carved into him with time and repetition. He built walls and learned that sometimes secrets make you lie. Eventually he learned how much a secret can steal from you. 

_Like a superhero,_ Minhyun said, seated on his father’s lap with the entire world before him. 

One person had known Minhyun’s identity, once upon a time. It had traveled through a thin grapevine, from some staff in the castle to a kid Minhyun hardly knew at school. Knowledge became power, and the kid had scowled at his surprised face, at his young, thirteen-year-old body that had shot upwards on lanky legs and hadn’t filled out anywhere else.

He’d accused Minhyun, in front of people. In front of the three others Minhyun couldn’t hide anything from but still hid everything from. 

Minki had laughed. Dongho had almost cried laughing. They hadn’t known Aaron yet, back then, but it was a story they’d told him later, and then Aaron laughed too.

Minhyun as a prince. How… unfathomable. 

Jonghyun had stepped between Minhyun and the boy, clearly seeing the shock on Minhyun’s face. He’d always been good at reading situations and knowing how to handle them, though he insisted the opposite. 

Jonghyun had smiled and said the kid clearly had the wrong Hwang. _The prince is with some boring tutor, in some boring fancy castle,_ he said. The prince wasn’t Minhyun, couldn’t be their Minhyun. Their Minhyun had spilled an entire bottle of milk all over the table and himself the other day. A prince would never. 

And later, as the tale traversed the line from immediate situation to funny story, something must’ve gone all weird on Minhyun’s face because Jonghyun patted him on the shoulder.

 _It’s okay,_ he said. _You don’t want to be a prince. You’d be a pretty bad one anyway._ He wrinkled his nose at the thought alone.

Minhyun had answered with an even weirder voice.

He learned that day that he'd built his walls well. Tall walls. Loyal walls. Maintained not by Minhyun but by friends who whole-heartedly believed in him and trusted him. It was hard for rumors to spread when they were replaced by actions.

The young prince, hidden from the world, might have been an enigma, but Minhyun was the student who tried to bolt through the halls to escape an angry Minki, shielding his butt as best he could when Minki kicked at him. He was the boy who used odd hand gestures to talk with his friends across classrooms, only to get himself in trouble for laughing aloud anyway. 

People talked, and Minhyun never tried to make them stop. You can never make them stop. Not even now, over a decade later. Minhyun's hands tightened on the steering wheel of his car, and the rain came down. They held trapped memories inside them. Trapped memories in the muddied view of the lonely, open road ahead of him.

It would take someone much less observant than him to miss how the staff spoke about Jonghyun. Minhyun didn’t hide Jonghyun's presence, but he didn’t offer information either. Less than a day in, and everyone working was aware that no one knew Jonghyun’s name, not even the security guards. The staff talked, and the rumors that Jonghyun never left his room except when Minhyun called him crossed their ears. 

They talked about how Jonghyun wore old clothes of Minhyun’s, and how the drawers and closets of his room held no personal belongings. Jonghyun did nothing and barely spoke, even with Minhyun. 

_It’s not even worth eavesdropping,_ a maid said, on that very first day. _You only hear the Prince talk._

_He clearly cares for him,_ another answered. 

Minhyun was well, well aware that he hadn’t found a long-term arrangement. Eventually, Jonghyun’s name would slip through, and no walls could protect him then. Not even Minhyun. 

The National Registry of Magical Persons existed for a reason, and Jonghyun’s name was among the dangerous. It would only take a quick search to connect Jonghyun with everything the country feared. It would list his name and whatever type of magic he was capable of. The words used would be specific and damning; magical abilities tended to do one thing and one thing only. Something strange. Something like stealing the warmth from the air. 

Minhyun hadn't dared ask Jonghyun what he could do. Not yet.

But no matter, if found, Jonghyun would be lucky if he was only arrested. _Minhyun_ would be lucky if he wasn’t accused of something or other. 

He had to figure something out.

There was rain on his windshield, and the wipers lagged across. Water streamed down the edges, and soft music spilled from the radio. Minhyun’s hands tensed around the wheel. His back was straight. 

He hadn’t been to this place in a long, long time. He’d never done a public appearance here. He’d never spoken with these citizens as the Prince. 

Once upon a time, Minki had led them all through the cramped warehouse, around the marketplace with its fluid walls and chattering people. Each stall they passed, Minki stopped to say hello, and the men and women knew his name. 

The internet didn't know Minki. Minhyun hadn’t found even a social media profile—something atypical for the boy who made friends like others took steps. It was a long shot, returning here, but Minhyun had to try something. 

Even if Jonghyun had failed to find Minki. This was likely also the first place Jonghyun went. Minhyun hadn't asked him, hadn't even told him he was doing this. Maybe if Minhyun found Minki, it would lighten whatever load Jonghyun carried. So far he'd refused to allow Minhyun to surpass a single wall.

Minhyun turned into a crowded, cracked parking lot. His tire thudded into a pothole, and his body swayed with the vehicle. He whispered an apology to his car. His hands shook as he followed the barely-there white lines. 

Technically, Minhyun didn’t have to pay the fees of the city, but he put a few coins into the meter anyway. He had the change to spare, and it would hopefully go to repairing places like this. 

Minhyun side-stepped another deep pothole. The marketplace he remembered had seemed much more mystical than this small, dingy place. Water beaded on his shoes and ran down the paths created for it by his black umbrella. 

He crossed the street quickly, splashed by rogue droplets. Unless the market was bigger than it appeared, it would take him no more than twenty minutes to walk the entire thing.

The old warehouse was missing an entire side of its walls. Instead, the open concrete structure had merchandise spilling out from it, almost too much to fit. Naked light bulbs shone steadily, and a murmur seemed to extend its hand out to Minhyun. It was the promise of life inside. The smell of frying foods. The calls of people to friends and family and strangers.

On the outside, everything was frozen solid. 

“Your highness!” A woman blocked his path. She was tall, barely under his own height. Minhyun smiled before his surprise caught up to him. He’d hoped to go unnoticed, but that had been naive. Minhyun had been in the news only the other day for the Day of Remembrance. The woman bowed.

“Hello,” Minhyun said. Water dusted across his face. The woman stood in a puddle and with no umbrella. The rain had stolen the volume from her short hair. “I’m here to walk the marketplace.” 

She didn’t step aside, despite the subtle message. “My name is Yoonsun,” she said. 

Behind her the market had jumped into action. Hidden behind colorful drapes and invisible barriers, goods were swept into darkness. This place was a breeding ground for illegal goods, and the royal family didn’t come here. Magic crawled in its cracks. 

“Perhaps you can help me.” Minhyun smiled in a way that crinkled his eyes. “I’m looking for someone.” He ran into few people who refused to help him, one of the perks of his friendly image.

Hesitation. The woman looked to be his age or perhaps younger. She had a confidence in herself that was visible even through her immediate uncertainty. 

“Come out of the rain,” she said and led him into the warehouse. Eyes followed him, all attached to frozen faces. It was a lot, even for Minhyun, and had none of the immediate trust he had grown used to. As the well-loved Prince of the people, he rarely faced suspicion.

 _It can’t be,_ someone said. Whispered in the back. 

Minhyun closed his umbrella and wiped his hand across his face, then through his hair. He withheld a shiver.

“Who are you looking for?” Yoonsun asked. Her stall had an assortment of teas. An older woman behind the stall had her graying hair wrapped in a tight bun. Minhyun greeted her, and she spared him a thin smile. 

“Choi Minki.” 

“Never heard of him,” Yoonsun said. 

“Then I’ll ask around. Thank you.”

“No,” Yoonsun said, now more harshly though it would be a stretch to call her insolent. “I know everyone here. You won’t find him here.” 

“He used to come here a lot,” Minhyun said. “Surely someone knows him.” Everyone did, a decade ago, and people didn't just forget people. 

“You’re mistaken.” Yoonsun was solid in her answer, and it was that that promised Minhyun she knew more than she was saying. 

“Yoonsun-ah.” Her mother immediately got her attention. “Have him talk to Raina. Kangmin can take him.”

A stall away, a young teenager--thirteen, fourteen, maybe?--perked up. He was nearly Minhyun's height and wore an old, stained t-shirt. There were headphones around his neck and a wide smile across his face.

“Hi, Your Highness,” he said. “I’ve never met real royalty before.” He stood with a casual slouch.

Minhyun smiled back. This was the sort of reaction he expected from people, not the less-than-lukewarm reception he'd received from Yoonsun.

“Thank you, Kangmin,” Minhyun said. “I’ll follow your lead.” He’d always liked kids. They asked interesting questions. 

The eyes watched him without pause as they traveled through the market, until Minhyun had goosebumps all over his arms. A marketplace like this would have everything from useless supposedly magical trinkets to who knows what else. Maybe the people feared that he was there for those things.

In reality, they didn't bother. Too much control would only incite rebellion, and the magic here was malicious in its attempts to deceive people but not outright dangerous. 

Minhyun didn’t particularly care whether there were illegal items in sight, so he focused on Kangmin.

“I’ve always wanted to meet royalty,” Kangmin was saying. “You're around, you know. Online and stuff, but it’s different, right? In person is kinda cool.”

“I’m happy to oblige, then. I always enjoy meeting citizens.”

“One of my friends said he went to school with you,” Kangmin said. “I didn’t think princes could go to normal school, but he said you didn’t tell anyone you’re a prince, so you could go.” 

"Really," Minhyun said. It came out more flat than he wanted. He looked around. The edges of whispered words stuck in his ears. Minhyun shook off the cold creeping down his spine like wayward rainwater.

Kangmin stopped in front of another booth, and Minhyun greeted another woman. She was older than him, though still somewhat young. Her eyes held a warmth.

“Hi Noona!” Kangmin chirped. “This is the prince. He’s got something to ask you.”

She smiled at him. “Thanks, Kangmin-ah,” she said. “Here, if you stay around to take him back, I'll give you a treat. 

His eyes lit up, and he lingered nearby. Kangmin didn't try to hide his interest in Minhyun, and he wasn't alone. 

Finally, Raina turned her attention back to Minhyun. 

“I heard you were coming,” she said, and Minhyun wasn’t surprised the news had traveled through the market even faster than he and Kangmin. “What does Yoonsun think I can help the prince with?”

Minhyun might not be used to this treatment and was infinitely confused as to why they’d allowed him through the entire marketplace, but he wasn’t a foreigner to games like this.

He licked his dry lips and paused. Raina had hid it well, but something about him had surprised her. Something about him surprised all of them.

“I have a message for an old friend of mine,” Minhyun said. “Choi Minki.”

Clearly, the name had traveled the grapevine as clearly as Minhyun’s own.

“I don’t know anyone with that name.”

"If you happen to meet him, then," Minhyun bulldozed onward, undeterred. He pitched his voice louder, for the listening ears attaching to opening mouths attached to widening eyes. "Tell him Jonghyun's back and wants to see him." 

If that didn’t bring Minki out, then it could only be because the message didn’t reach him. But Minhyun was certain it would.

People talked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter but it ruined my pacing if I did anything else but posted it alone... good news is the chapter after this is gonna be long & have lots of 2hyun!


	4. Pond's Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonghyun was watching him. Minhyun raised an eyebrow but didn't expect much.
> 
> “You seem like a prince now,” Jonghyun said. “You didn't before."

From what Minhyun could tell, Jonghyun didn’t do much. He spent most of the day in his room and answered slowly when Minhyun knocked. Minhyun had no idea what he even did in there—Jonghyun didn't have much to entertain himself with.

“Have you eaten?” Minhyun asked.

Jonghyun shook his head. It was a couple hours past noon, and Minhyun had been awake since dawn. Jonghyun’s hair was ruffled, and he’d rubbed his eyes as he opened the door. He looked cute, almost child-like though nothing like the child he'd once been. The few days of rest and decent food and luxuries had done Jonghyun's appearance well, but Minhyun’s concern remained.

“We can have brunch together," Minhyun said.

Jonghyun didn’t give a verbal answer, and the concern became a familiar black hole. Back then Jonghyun had been loud around friends, around people who cared about him. He'd talked about everything and nothing. But even when he was quiet, when he sat back and watched, he had this aura about him, impossible to ignore. The faintest hum in the background, incomprehensible and drawing and real. 

Jonghyun hadn't lost it. He still drew Minhyun in with a gravitational force they'd never learned about. But without the friendship and the kindness and the certainty that Jonghyun knew and loved him, the aura turned foreign. Disconcerting. Jonghyun commanded attention and took up his space, but he was a moving statue, cute to look at and cold to touch.

Minhyun had awoken to frosted-over windows that morning. It had been a long, long time since that had last happened. Something in the world had gone wrong, surreal and scary. Like a late-night drive but every radio station was static. Like Minhyun had one morning awoken to a world where car engines were silent and no one noticed but him.

“Do you still like black bean noodles?” Minhyun asked. As if anyone didn’t like them. He couldn’t remember Jonghyun’s exact favorite food. “Or if you’re in the mood for something?”

“Anything works.” It was like he wasn't even Jonghyun anymore. 

Minhyun's exhaustion was of a poking, prodding kind. It had followed him around through his meetings, a low-level annoyance hovering around him like a moth trying to reach a porchlight. Now before Jonghyun, it whispered all the ways Minhyun had made no ground. Jonghyun still wasn't speaking much, still was all but refusing to explain why he'd returned. Minhyun needed answers, and this strange not-Jonghyun wasn't providing them. 

There hadn’t yet been time to buy Jonghyun clothes, and so he was still wearing Minhyun's. His shirt sleeves stretched to the middle of his palms, and he'd cuffed the pants a couple times, but that did little to improve how obviously large they were on him. His only saving grace was the smallest belt Minhyun owned.

Today was just a bad day, maybe. Minhyun was off. The world was off. Jonghyun was nothing like Minhyun had ever imagined, and he carried the overwhelming sense that something bad had happened to him. Something bad had happened to him because he was magical and taken away.

Every time Minhyun recalled how Jonghyun sat at the memorial and listened to him denounce magic and praise their system, he flashed cold. They'd taken everything from Jonghyun. They'd ruined his life. And Minhyun stood still and strong and princely as he praised them. 

Jonghyun might not be Jonghyun anymore, but Minhyun hadn't been Minhyun for even longer. He'd let them take Jonghyun away. The one person who could've stopped them hadn't done anything. Everyone had known he was the prince, and he'd let Jonghyun go without argument anyway.

If silence was what Jonghyun wanted, who was Minhyun to take it from him. 

The entrance to the kitchen was unobtrusive, only a simple wooden door. This was their family's personal kitchen; the catering for large meetings or events was different. Minhyun could've ordered food from his study easily enough, but he liked the cook and enjoyed the presence of the other staff. He wasn't here often anymore, and they'd watched him grow up almost as surely as his own parents. Visiting them was a nice constant.

“Can we eat outside?” Jonghyun asked, just as Minhyun pushed the door open. He twisted and used his back to hold it for Jonghyun, then gestured Minhyunso he'd enter first. The door creaked its way closed behind them.

“Sure," Minhyun said. "I can show you the gardens.” There'd be other times for him to speak with the staff. 

Jonghyun’s eyes crinkled. He’d always liked nature, whether bugs or trees or flowers or whatever. Minhyun had way too many memories of Jonghyun where he'd gotten his hands on something weird. He’d once tried to get through an entire school day with a caterpillar, so he could take it home and raise it. It hadn’t worked.

“Do you still have koi?” Jonghyun asked.

Something sweet bubbled in Minhyun's chest. Jonghyun had remembered. “They’ve gotten a lot bigger. And there’s more now.”

“I’d like to see them.”

Minhyun gave the kitchen staff their request and laughed at a joking order that he better come back to talk later 'or else.' As he returned to Jonghyun, still grinning, Jonghyun wiped a strange, stricken expression from his face. Minhyun didn't dare ask about it and instead rerouted them to a small outside area. One side looked over a simple garden, where bushy purple flowers and tall yellow blooms did their best to provide privacy.

On the other side, there was an entire wall of flowers. Jonghyun walked there first, and his hand trailed along the white wall peeking through, along the flowers and leaves. Minhyun took the opportunity to stare. There was something somber in how Jonghyun moved, drowning in loose fabric. The shoulders of his shirt were too large on him, giving it an odd, boxy appearance.

Jonghyun caught him watching and froze. Minhyun swallowed. Jonghyun was something else. Not everything had been fixed in only a few days: Jonghyun was still gaunt. The bags under his eyes weren't entirely gone. But Jonghyun was beautiful among the flowers. Captivating. He had the same power as he'd had whenever they all used to meet under the dark canopy of a forest. It was like he belonged there. 

A staff member entered quietly with their food and placed it on the table. It was black bean noodles with a fried egg and some beef and kimchi on the side. Minhyun thanked him--for the food and possibly for breaking the spell he'd been under. He didn't dare look at Jonghyun for that long again.

Jonghyun picked up his chopsticks, and Minhyun watched his hand. There was nothing too different about it; it was a hand. His nails weren't neglected but could've been cared for better. His skin seemed soft. As he lifted a bite to his mouth, he twisted his bony wrist and revealed the old line of a scar across his palm. It was that thin white line that startled Minhyun into looking away. 

Minhyun had once struggled to find anything they could use for a bandage while Jonghyun stared with confused eyes and a bloody hand and insisted he was okay, he was fine. Nothing was wrong, as his blood darkened the dry dirt below his feet.

"Is everything okay?" Jonghyun asked. Right. Minhyun had yet to even raise his own chopsticks. 

“I tried to find Minki the other day,” Minhyun said. He'd meant to tell Jonghyun earlier, but the words had stuck fast. “I missed him, but he should come by soon.”

“You said you didn’t talk much with him anymore.”

“He still lives around where he grew up. I met a friend of his there.”

Jonghyun said nothing.

“I was surprised,” Minhyun continued. “Minki always said he wanted to travel. I guess things changed.”

“Can we walk around now?” Jonghyun asked. Minhyun pretended not to notice the sloppy subject change. So Jonghyun didn’t want to talk about Minki. That was fine, Minhyun guessed. They stood, and Minhyun stacked their dishes. Someone would collect them.

Now leaving the shaded protection of the awning, Jonghyun tilted his chin towards the sky. Sunlight washed over his features and brought serenity along with it. Minhyun wilted in the heat and blocked the sun with a hand. He'd underestimated its strength.

Jonghyun ignored the stone paths and wandered through the grass. The dew had long burned off it, and small insects leaped from their feet. Even without following the meandering paths, the pond was easy to find. It was lined with carved stones, and bushy cattails with fat seeds stretched across one side. On the calm, mirror-like surface, a water lily and its associated lily pads spread open wide.

Minhyun pointed out a frog, balanced at the water’s edge, and Jonghyun smiled, took one step closer, and laughed as the frog fled, leaving a long line of ripples and a gentle splash behind it.

Jonghyun sat on his heels on the edge. With his silence and his body curled into a ball, he was just another small stone by the water. He’d done the same thing, long ago, the first time Minhyun had ever had a friend visit the castle and the only time Jonghyun had ever come.

The koi were deep under the water, only flashes of orange and gold before they returned to the depths. They'd had them since Minhyun was young and would have them for decades to come.

“You’re right,” Jonghyun said. He'd tilted his head, as though the angle granted him an improved view. “They are bigger.”

“I’m surprised you remember them.” Maybe if Minhyun were honest, Jonghyun would give him something more.

“Of course I do. That day meant a lot to you.” Jonghyun had been the only one who agreed to come. He'd been betrayed and truthful as he told Minhyun he didn't know what Minhyun could do to fix things between them, but he'd agreed to go all the same. Minki had only huffed and left when Minhyun asked, and after a moment of hesitation, Dongho had followed, even though his eyes weren't nearly as angry. Aaron had gone to say something but decided against it, and only Jonghyun's sturdy presence had prevented Minhyun from breaking down and begging him to say something, anything.

“It was a long time ago.” Minhyun had been desperate for someone, anyone, to stay with him, to listen to him, and finally, Jonghyun had. Minhyun had never had a chance to repay him for that, until now. 

Jonghyun still hadn’t moved away from the water. If he leaned any further, Minhyun feared he'd lose his balance and topple into it. The water's surface was smooth and glassy, an intrusion would shatter it into a million pieces.

“Have you tried to find Dongho?” Jonghyun asked. “Or talked to him at all?”

“He took over his dad’s job.” Minhyun was eager to share such an exact answer. “I haven’t talked with him, but I looked it up this morning.”

Dongho had made it easy. He was a castle employee, all his work information recorded in their database. One of their head gardeners, the youngest by far. He'd always loved plants--it was something about the way they grew that fascinated him. 

Something softened in Jonghyun’s face, but Minhyun couldn’t place what it was or why it had happened. Maybe because another old friend was right around the corner.

“So he did what he wanted,” Jonghyun said. He turned back to the water, but the smile stayed in place. Gently, he leveled his palm against the surface. Small ripples spread out and marred the mirror. 

Minhyun hadn’t thought about it like that.

“We should go see him today,” Minhyun said. “He’s a gardener, he must not work too late in the evening.” Probably. Minhyun didn’t actually know, but they definitely started in the early morning.

“Don’t you have things to do?”

“I schedule most of my meetings for the morning.”

“So you’ve already done it.”

Minhyun nodded. He’d done some work, though not enough to call it a day. Still, he could push things back. He’d done the essentials, and it would be harder to figure out something for Jonghyun in the next few days than to do that work.

Besides, being around Jonghyun wasn’t easy, but at least it wasn’t meeting with advisors. This morning, one of them had said something about the increased security of the castle, and Minhyun had had to admit he hadn't noticed. Apparently, his mom had pushed for more, and the advisor couldn't explain why. Minhyun didn't want to get to the bottom of that whole ordeal just yet. Going out with Jonghyun and finding Dongho was better by far. 

Jonghyun was watching him. Minhyun raised an eyebrow but didn't expect much.

“You seem like a prince now,” Jonghyun said. “You didn't before."

"I wasn't used to people knowing."

"And at the memorial," Jonghyun said. "I know you used to worry about speeches and stuff a lot, but everyone seemed to like you."

“Right. Thanks.” Minhyun flashed cold, but Jonghyun had to understand why he'd said what he said, right? None of it was a lie—magic was dangerous. It had killed people. They couldn’t allow a thing like that to run rampant in the country, and the people of the country didn’t want reforms.

If Minhyun could accept it, Jonghyun could too. Sometimes people had to make sacrifices for their country. That was how it worked.

"What do you do?" Jonghyun asked. "Your meetings this morning. What were they about?" 

Minhyun looked over the water. "Everything, I guess," he said. "I meet with citizens a lot, and this is my first time back in over a month. The meetings are to catch me up with any new policies and topics of interest here." 

"So what's the National Assembly up to, then?" For the first time, Jonghyun sounded a bit like how he should. He sounded like Minhyun's old friend. 

Minhyun crouched beside Jonghyun, uncertain if he was welcome but unwilling to let the moment fade. Jonghyun spared him a gentle smile, and Minhyun relaxed. "Nothing fast," he grumbled. "Noona complains about them every time I come back here." 

The monarchy wasn't made to have unlimited power. Elected officials and judges also played their roles. Luckily, the Queen was loved overall by the country, and Minhyun and Sunhwa certainly weren't disliked either. Minhyun was quite proud of their system. Proud to be a part of it.

The memory of Jonghyun at the memorial flew by Minhyun's eyes. Jonghyun was watching the pond but seemed to notice nothing. A water bug skimmed along the surface. Maybe Minhyun was right to hold his praises in. They'd failed Jonghyun as an individual after all; their system had netted him together with all the dangerous magic-users out there. Incorrectly, no doubt. Minhyun might not know what Jonghyun's magic could do, but he knew Jonghyun. He'd never hurt anyone.

The wind stirred Jonghyun’s hair, and he wrapped his hands over his arms.

Minhyun jerked back to his feet. “Are you cold?" he asked. "I can get you a jacket.”

“I’m fine, thanks.” Jonghyun's voice was back to the same quiet, polite tone that didn't sound like him, but at least he hadn’t questioned why Minhyun thought he might be cold on a hot summer day. That had been stupid. Minhyun closed his eyes, and for a second they fought to stay that way. He needed a nap.

“Right,” Minhyun said, blinking fast to force himself awake. He had to save this before he lost Jonghyun entirely. “Right. Are you ready to go?”

Jonghyun nodded and stood. He placed his hands over his knees for support as he straightened. Minhyun almost smiled. At least that was one thing they shared: they'd both gotten old.

The walk to the car was too hot to be pleasant. Jonghyun sat in the front seat as Minhyun worked up the courage to break the silence again. He had a lot still to tell Jonghyun. If they found Dongho, then Minhyun should see if Jonghyun could stay with him. That way, he'd be more protected than in the palace. But before Jonghyun could move anywhere, Minhyun had to understand more about him. The questions stuck in his throat.

Once, Minhyun would’ve said everything he ever wanted without even thinking about it. Jonghyun had been brilliant at making people comfortable. But now Minhyun was stiff-backed and uncertain, beside a not-Jonghyun who stared out the window in silence.

“You said you don’t need help.” Minhyun’s voice was too loud and almost accusing. He bit his tongue. Of all the ways to start this conversation. 

Jonghyun blinked at him. Minhyun waited for the gate to open before his car, then drove through it. Dongho lived in the staff housing, under five minutes away.

“But now you’re here,” Minhyun said and screw the lead-in, he only had one question. “Jonghyun, why are you back?”

“I don’t think I know.” He spoke slowly, like he had to choose each word with care. There were lines drawn across his forehead. Minhyun waited for more. “It felt like I didn’t have any reason to stay where I was, and I—” His voice died. Not even trailed off; it died.

“You what?” Minhyun pushed.

“I missed you,” Jonghyun said, with his broken, resurrected voice. “All of you. I assumed—I thought you’d still be friends.”

What could Minhyun even say to that?

Jonghyun looked out the window again. “Maybe it was a mistake. Things are—different. I should’ve expected that.”

That was the first thing Jonghyun said that Minhyun understood. 

There was a reason Minhyun had never reached out to Dongho or Minki or even tried to find Aaron or Jonghyun. Especially Aaron or Jonghyun. Jonghyun because Minhyun’s complacency ruined everything. Aaron because the hopes and dreams he’d shared as Minhyun lied in return haunted Minhyun at night.

He didn’t even have a lead for Aaron. Not a place or a job or anything. But Jonghyun was back. He’d reached out and done what none of them had been able to. Minhyun’s fear of their stacked differences had left him frozen, but something had let Jonghyun endure on. Maybe the small chunk of time they'd spent as four had been what ruined it for them, and it would be Jonghyun who pulled them all together again. 

“I’m glad you came back,” Minhyun said. “I missed you too.”

He swallowed hard. If Jonghyun had the courage to return here after so long, Minhyun had to find his own courage to talk to him, dammit.

“I want to know everything,” Minhyun said. “Everywhere you’ve been and what you’ve been doing—Catch me up with you. Tell me what’s going on.”

Silence. He’d reached too far, tried to grab too much.

“I don’t know if I can give you good answers,” Jonghyun said finally. 

"I'd take any answers," Minhyun admitted. "I never thought I'd see you again."

Jonghyun crossed his arms, then seemed to think better of it and closed the cars' vents instead. Minhyun tried not to think anything of it, but that was a hopeless task.

"Can we talk about this later?" Jonghyun asked. "I want to see what Dongho's done with the gardens." 

It was an excuse, and Minhyun knew it. The gardens were in the distance. Right here was mainly grass and the occasional small tree. It took maintaining—Minhyun saw workers out in areas like this most days—but there weren’t any flowers. They were on their way to the staff housing, not the gardens. Minhyun turned into the parking lot.

“What will we do if he’s not there?” Jonghyun asked. "Do you even know his number?" 

Minhyun shifted his car into park right in front of the building. “We’ll come back later, I guess. I don't know. We'll figure it out.” Minhyun hadn’t put too much thought into if it didn’t work out, too ready for something to go right for once.

The apartment buildings were just in sight of the castle. They didn't look much different up close.

Gray concrete steps led to gray walls and dirty windows and a small door.

Minhyun opened it. Attached to the lobby were a small mail area and an office. He made his way over to the window. There was a man working in the office who hadn't noticed them enter.

“Excuse me,” Minhyun said, and the man glanced up, then fully looked up, wide-eyed. Minhyun tugged out a smile.

“Your—your highness?” the man asked. He had a long face and short, cropped hair that only emphasized his high forehead. The man tried to bow, but it was awkward from behind a desk that was behind a small window Minhyun was looking through. They'd likely never had a visit from a member of the royal family before.

“I’m looking for Kang Dongho’s apartment. Do you have the number?”

“Dongho?" the man's eyebrows rose. "Uh, I can call him. Or--or give it to you, I guess? But that's kind-of against protocol."

“Call him then,” Minhyun said. He didn’t like using his status for special treatment—especially not to break protocols meant for preserving people’s privacy.

Minhyun tried not to catch the man’s words, but he couldn’t avoid them. The man referred to them using Minhyun’s title and stuttered on how to refer to Jonghyun. Finally, he settled on, ‘and his, uh, friend.’

As the phone call ended, the man looked at Minhyun again. He took in the strange image he and Jonghyun made together and took his time to speak. Impatience ate at Minhyun, and he stood taller, becoming even more of a princely figure. Unsurprisingly, it did little to make the man comfortable.

“He’s coming down,” said the man. Finally.

Minhyun’s heart jumped.

“Good. Great, thanks,” he said, trying on more than he needed to find a good fit. His words came out clumsy and curt, neither of the impressions he wished to make.

Jonghyun was watching, and that only made things worse. He was frowning.

“What?” Minhyun asked him, to no response. They moved to the other side of the lobby, taking some of the brown seats. The material made a loud leathery sound as Minhyun sat. Jonghyun stood nearby.

It wasn’t long until the elevator doors opened with a groan and a whirl of machinery, and Minhyun was on his feet before they finished.

There wasn’t anything monumentally different about Dongho’s appearance. He’d settled into adulthood the way many teenagers did, where everything fit better and had calmed into an easy normal.

Perhaps the greatest difference was that he wasn't smiling. He'd always had an easy laugh and an easy smile. It had been impossible to refrain from laughing or smiling back, too easy to catch his humor like some happy virus. 

Minhyun wasn't ready for this. So much of his everything had been encompassed by thoughts of Jonghyun that he hadn’t truly comprehended how he’d also see his other friends after forever.

Dongho walked straight towards them. A foreign urge to run away wrapped around Minhyun's chest, as constricting as a cord.

Dongho had filled out more since Minhyun last saw him, and he had a solid amount of stubble on his face. His eyes had widened, and his mouth was open slightly from the shock.

“Minhyun?” he asked. “And—Jonghyun.” Dongho looked them up and down, like they couldn't be real. 

“Baekho.” Jonghyun’s voice was choked, and Minhyun swallowed hard. Dongho had begun growing out of that nickname even before Jonghyun disappeared; by the time Minhyun left, they hadn’t called him it at all.

Jonghyun crossed the distance between them and threw himself into Dongho's arms with enough force that Dongho took a step back to stabilize himself. 

Now Dongho was smiling. Now he was holding Jonghyun like something fragile, and Jonghyun looped his arms around Dongho's neck and forced him to bear as much weight as Jonghyun could throw on him. His chin was on Dongho's shoulder, and when he tightened his arms further, Dongho laughed and told Jonghyun not to strangle him.

Minhyun pretended to care about the smudged image through the windows, pretended he wasn't intruding on their personal reunion. He pretended it didn't matter that Dongho's happened so differently than his own reunion with Jonghyun. They hadn't even hugged.

Dongho held Jonghyun like he would disappear the second he loosened his arms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so bad news this isn't the long chapter I promised, but the good news is that's because I had to chop the chapter into 2 at the last minute, so the next update should happen in only a couple days! I tried for the longest time to keep it as one but i really couldn't make this chapter nearly 8K when the fic overall was at 9K 😅


	5. Frosted Windows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How do you feel?” Jonghyun asked.
> 
> “I just… want to go home,” Minhyun said.

Everything was different until it wasn’t. Jonghyun and Dongho had their hug, and the past surged into the present. Then it stopped, the past returned to the past, and Dongho had that same stumbling uncertainty as Minhyun. 

Minhyun leaned against the windows, the glass cool enough to bleed through his shirt. Dongho’s hair was flat and damp, only minutes from drying enough to gain volume. He must have showered recently. 

“You’re really back,” Dongho said. His face couldn't seem to decide on an expression, lips curled into a shaky smile and brow furrowed. “Minki told me—”

“Minki got my message?” Minhyun flashed white-hot with triumph but received no reaction. 

Well, fine then. They were busy with their reunion.

Jonghyun was so small beside Dongho, but Dongho hadn’t grown any taller. Minhyun couldn't watch anymore. He spotted the office again, and dammit, it was dumb to do this here. They should move to Dongho’s room or something. 

Jonghyun had pulled back, but he still had an arm on Dongho's shoulder. Minhyun would be an asshole to interrupt this. The lobby worker Minhyun had spoken to previously peered through at them. He ducked down again when he spotted Minhyun, who huffed and fell back against the glass.

“So, an apartment, huh?” Jonghyun’s voice took on a teasing lilt. “What happened to five acres minimum?”

“Minki told me the same thing.” Dongho pouted. 

“And a head gardener of the royal palace? Do you design or grow? Both?”

“Things are going so well for us,” Dongho said. “We only garden now--finally got rid of those dumb chickens and everything.”

“Hey, it’s not their fault you’re scared of everything. I think they’re great.”

“Remember how much they hated Aaron?”

A brief pause, then Jonghyun tilted his head back into a laugh. “I forgot about that." He huffed again, shaking his head. 

It was nice to see Jonghyun this carefree. Minhyun loved every second of it—even as he wished Jonghyun was like that with him, too. Valiantly, Minhyun tried to extinguish that thought, but it burrowed under his skin and rooted in everything it could reach.

"How is he?” Jonghyun asked. “Aaron hyung?” Minhyun’s heart lurched sideways. He hadn’t ever had a lead for Aaron, all possibilities squished to nothing under the heavy fear that if he could find Aaron, it meant that Aaron hadn’t fulfilled his dreams. 

"Good,” Dongho said, but it was more dismissive than descriptive. “But what about you, Jonghyun? How have you been?”

“I think things are getting better,” Jonghyun said. Carefully. Like he was thinking about every single word. It was an awkward phrase, and at least Jonghyun still maintained his strangeness with Dongho too. At least it wasn't only Minhyun who experienced that. “A lot better.” Jonghyun smiled, and it almost made everything better.

“Where are you staying?” Dongho asked, even though it had to be obvious. 

Jonghyun hesitated, and Minhyun cut in.

“We shouldn’t talk about this here,” he said. Dongho and Jonghyun snapped their heads to look at him, like they’d forgotten he was there. Like his presence didn't matter. It stung more than Minhyun expected. “We can go—upstairs?”

“Let’s go outside,” Dongho said. 

There, the heat had finally unclenched its fist, but still gripped the world between its fingers. Only the grass, watered to lush greenness, seemed unaware of it.

“I’m staying with Minhyun,” Jonghyun said. He shaded his eyes with one hand. Dongho frowned. He was going to offer Jonghyun an alternative; Minhyun knew it

This was the end. Jonghyun had come to Minhyun as a last resort because he couldn’t find anyone else. Now Dongho would provide him a place to sleep.

Minhyun blinked quickly. This was fine. It was Jonghyun’s choice and likely better for him anyway. Minhyun had been lucky to evade Sunhwa’s questions this long, and the castle staff were already gossiping.

“It’s been nice,” Jonghyun finished. He even threw a smile back at Minhyun, and now, finally, Dongho noticed him.

“I’ve gotten so used to seeing you on the news it’s weird seeing you in person,” he said. True to his words, his gaze was heavy on Minhyun as he processed the differences. 

“It’s good to see you,” Minhyun said. “I missed you.”

“I’ve been here this whole time."

“Yeah.” Minhyun could have visited.

Conversation between them threatened to die, and Minhyun fought to clear the cobwebs from his throat. He needed to ask Dongho something.

“Have you talked to Aaron? What's he doing now? I look for his name at like, events and stuff, but…” 

Aaron had always had the greatest ambitions of all of them. He’d always wanted to leave and travel and be a journalist who worked at major international events. Minhyun wasn’t sure he could bear to find out that all these years later, Aaron had done none of it. 

“He and Minki live together now,” Dongho said. 

“Does he write?” 

They’d once spent hours together deciding on their plans and their futures and detailing every wild theory. But in the end, nothing had been more outlandish than Minhyun being a prince. 

“It’s been forever since I’ve even seen them," Dongho admitted. "Man, when Minki called me yesterday I—”

“So he doesn’t, from what you know.” 

“All I know is he manages all Minki’s stuff,” Dongho said.

“What stuff?” Jonghyun asked, to no answer.

The heavy silence didn’t faze Minhyun. He waited and ignored Dongho's discomfort. Jonghyun seemed keen on doing the same.

Whatever this was, Dongho thought they wouldn't like it. Whatever this was, it was the reason Minhyun had taken such a roundabout route to find Minki, and the reason Minki had so little presence online. Dongho was scared to say it.

Minhyun waited.

“He’s a healer,” Dongho finally said.

“Minki became a _doctor?”_ It wasn’t that Minhyun doubted Minki’s ability to do whatever he wanted; he doubted that that was something Minki would ever want. 

Dongho paused. “Look, I don’t think he’d want you to know.”

Minhyun’s confusion shuddered to a stop. Dongho hadn’t called Minki a doctor or nurse; he’d called Minki a healer. “You're kidding," Minhyun said. "Dongho, please tell me he’s not some kind of magical healer or something.”

They’d tried to stop those when they started, but more and more popped up. Even in a country with good doctors and hospitals, places people used and trusted, they couldn’t stamp out every immortal, annoying ember. All these supposed magic, supposed healers did was prey on people and offer false hope. For a price, of course. 

“I said you didn't want to know,” Dongho said.

Minhyun scoffed. It was one thing to guess, and another to hear it confirmed.

“I can’t believe he’d take advantage of people like that.” Minhyun laughed, even though it was the furthest from funny. “Minki… How can he _use_ people like that?” 

Magic could do simple things. Every person was different, but it tended to mess with temperature or water or sometimes even fire. It swirled through the air and stopped the air in your lungs. It pushed and pushed and pulled and had you trapped. 

Magic didn’t heal people. It destroyed whatever it could, and Minhyun had no patience for those who pretended otherwise. They didn't know. He did.

“Something he does works,” Dongho said. He raised a hand to his opposite shoulder and rubbed it. “And he sends people to the hospital if he can’t heal them. There’s even a few doctors that work with him.”

“They'll lose their license for that.” Minhyun’s condemnation was swift. He’d imagined so many futures for his most empathetic, most ridiculous friend. 

“He helped me out a while back with my shoulder,” Dongho said. “Saved me a bunch of time. It's how we started talking again.”

“Were you not talking before?” Jonghyun asked.

Dongho softened when he looked at Jonghyun. “We’ve all been busy,” he said. “It was way too easy to fall out of touch.”

Minhyun should step back and accept the subject change, but the more he turned it over in his mind, the more annoyance blossomed into unusual anger. He dug his nails into his palms, but they were blunt and only brushed against his skin.

“Aaron really helps him with that?” Minhyun demanded. “Instead of—he was supposed to be a journalist.” He had wanted to spread the truth, not lies.

Except it wasn’t as big of a shock as Minhyun pretended. Aaron had told him he was giving up on journalism a long time ago. He’d said that to Minhyun, after literal years of them talking about their goals and where they wanted to go in the future.

Minhyun had never understood why, and Aaron had been close-lipped and awkward about it. All of it had taken place after Aaron had graduated, so they’d only ever spoken on the phone. And they'd been falling apart by then, anyway.

Dongho shrugged. “He never liked that as much as he pretended. He’s happy where he is.”

“Yeah, what a life. Trailing after Minki and preaching bullshit.” Minhyun needed to accept that the friends he’d once been so close to had changed. When he searched for the kids he'd once known in them, he only harvested disappointment.

“Like you're any better," Dongho said. "Did you even hear what you said a week ago? Anyone who knows—”

“Let’s not argue.” Jonghyun’s gentle admonishment slid in-between them. “It’s complicated, right? And it’s been a long time.”

He was right. Minhyun took a deep breath. Back then it would've been hard to imagine ever being truly angry with Dongho, but things changed. People changed.

“I hope I get to see them soon,” Jonghyun said, and the wistful note in his voice made Minhyun feel like an asshole. His personal opinions didn't matter here. Minhyun wasn’t reconnecting for himself; he was reconnecting for Jonghyun. 

"Are you free today?" Jonghyun went on. "I want to see your gardens.”

Dongho looked back out into the grass. “I’m supposed to go back out. It’s been too hot to work in the middle of the day. I have to work this evening.”

“What are you doing?” Jonghyun asked.

“I’ve got so much to water, you have no idea.”

“We can come back another day then,” Jonghyun decided. "So we don't keep you from it."

Dongho didn’t look happy about that, but he agreed. “Do you have Minki’s number?” he asked. “You should call him.”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“I can get it.” Minhyun dug his phone out of his back pocket. Jonghyun opened his mouth, as though to protest, but then said nothing. He closed it again, and swallowed. 

“What?” Minhyun snapped. Dongho frowned so hard lines appeared around his mouth.

Well, fuck him. Minhyun was here for Jonghyun. He just needed to remember that and get through it. His personal opinions of their old friends didn't matter.

"I'll get you a phone," Minhyun said. "Is that better?"

“You don’t need to buy me one,” Jonghyun said.

“Yeah, I know.” Minhyun bounced his foot, indulging in an old habit he crushed years ago. “Do you want one?”

Silence. Minhyun set his jaw and waited for an answer. Jonghyun could at least give him something. It wasn't like it was complicated. Finally, Jonghyun shook his head.

“You’re sure you don’t want to stay here?” Dongho asked him. “It’d be a squeeze, but I’ve got a blow-up mattress and everything.”

“It’s okay. I like staying with Minhyun.”

Minhyun’s heart thawed. Oh. Jonghyun liked staying with him. Good. 

Dongho accepted that without argument; how could he protest when Jonghyun made it clear what he wanted? And so he sighed and instead bade them goodbye. He cast a forlorn glance at Jonghyun, like he wanted him to stay forever, and Minhyun understood. Talking with Jonghyun for only a few minutes wasn't enough, not when eight years of silence was stacked against them. At least they were on the same page there.

Dongho's smile was tired, and Minhyun couldn’t look away from it. He related to it, but he’d never, ever seen Dongho with a similar expression. A wall crumbled within Minhyun, and for the first time, he really took in the man Dongho had become. 

What was Minhyun _doing?_ This was Dongho he was talking to. The same Dongho Minhyun had missed for years. How many times had he wanted to reach out and didn't dare to even check if Dongho still worked in the gardens? 

And now they finally were talking, and Minhyun had picked fights the entire time. He’d treated the entire situation like a battle, and now anger that had previously been unstoppable magma hardened into cold rock. Minhyun hovered awkwardly as Jonghyun gave Dongho one final hug.

He should apologize, but then again, maybe it was better to just forget about the whole thing. Minhyun wasn't used to dealing with stuff like this. He was normally more level-headed, more logical, and more prone to rationalizing his emotions away and leaving himself empty than acting out. 

Minhyun gauged the best way to say goodbye. This wasn't as easy as he would've guessed. 

"Dongho," Minhyun said. It came out uncertain. Vulnerable. Minhyun hated it.

“It’s good to see you again,” was Dongho’s response, and Minhyun knew he'd understood. A shiver raced up his spine. He'd forgotten what it was like to have people see straight through him.

Dongho opened his arms, and Minhyun slid closer. His tentative steps allowed Dongho enough time to change his mind, but finally, Minhyun stepped into the hug. The fresh scent of soap embraced him, and Minhyun clung for a heartbeat too long. It was an almost forgotten instinct. Minhyun hadn't had the time or the people to cuddle in a long while. 

He hoped Dongho could hear his apology in the hug. Minhyun squeezed his shoulders one last time and backed away. 

“We’ll come back,” Minhyun said. “Or you come to the palace.” He wanted another chance to reconnect with Dongho. 

And with that as their parting words, Minhyun and Jonghyun returned to the car, and Dongho headed the opposite way—towards a small cluster of greenhouses.

Jonghyun sat in the passenger’s seat and wiped his nose with his sleeve. Tears sparkled in his eyes, but none fell down his cheeks.

“Are you okay?” Minhyun asked. He tried not to think about the snot stain on his shirt.

“Are you?” Jonghyun asked. 

Minhyun could’ve gone and seen Dongho earlier. He could’ve handled this any other way—actually talking with Dongho, not being so immediately angry. It was embarrassing. As much as Minhyun wanted to blame the years between them, he couldn't. Not when Jonghyun faced worse and handled it better.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine," Minhyun said. He pulled away from the apartments. 

The grass slid by the car, a sea of green waves created by the early evening wind. It was long past the hottest part of the day, but heat still wavered in the air. The sky was clear, and the sun shining. Minhyun rolled a window down.

“Let’s not go back yet,” Jonghyun suggested. “We can go for a drive.”

“You want to?”

Jonghyun did.

Minhyun didn't. He needed time to process. Seeing Dongho had been more than Minhyun was prepared for, and with Aaron and Minki not that far away either, Minhyun needed some time to stop and think. But this was for Jonghyun. Biting down on a sigh and rolling his shoulders to expel the odd stiffness they'd gained, Minhyun agreed.

"I want to call Minki," Jonghyun admitted. "But I don't think I'm ready."

Minhyun should ask him what he thought of Minki's career choices, and of Aaron's help. Jonghyun would look at him and say Minhyun overreacted. Or he'd say Minhyun was right, that Jonghyun knew magic and it could never do anything good. All it did was tear you away from the people who love you.

It was silent as they neared the highway. Minhyun closed the window. Soon they'd be going too fast for the open air. 

Minhyun was better at pretending he enjoyed driving than actually enjoying it. He’d always been too aware of a driver to find it relaxing, more the type to check lanes and mirrors and his speedometer over and over. Driving wasn’t his thing.

He’d argued that it was, though. Originally, when he spoke at different places and did his tours and meetings across the country, he’d gone with several others. Bodyguards, a driver. Back then he hadn’t even had his own vehicle, instead relying on plane and train rides scheduled well in advance. It had taken time to convince his parents the better course of action was for him to drive most everywhere and work with regionally appointed staff and local police stations.

It was only one more lie, and worth it. The alone time made things easier. Now Minhyun could leave for months at a time, could run his way across the country and forget that he had nothing but his family and his job to return to. His family, his job, and places so supersaturated with memories and guilt that even the slightest vibration shook them loose.

Minhyun stole a look at Jonghyun and caught him staring back. His hands tightened on the wheel. This was too much; today had already sucked everything from him.

The hair on his arms rose, and a small shiver ran down his back like the chill of a fever. A pressure was building in his chest, a recognizable, horrible pressure. The first time this happened Minhyun had thought he was going to die, that it was a heart attack at age sixteen. It had come with nausea, and Minhyun had collapsed, had heaved, hands on cold cement, but spit nothing up. It was the first time something had ever happened and he'd known then and there that he could never, ever make it better.

Acrid adrenaline stained his tongue, and he swallowed a pool of saliva building in his mouth. He couldn’t do this now. Fuck. Fuck. The air thickened around him, until he had to gulp the viscous substance down only to get it in his lungs. His entire body had tensed. 

Jonghyun reached out and messed with the air conditioning. “Is the air on?" he asked. “It's chilly in here.”

Waking up to frosted-over windows, long after winter. The way sometimes Minhyun needed to get away, to be alone. The hairs rose on his arms, but the cold was comfortable. Of course Jonghyun didn’t know where the chill was coming from. No one did.

“Minhyun.” Jonghyun’s eyes were wide. His breath misted in the air. 

Fog spread across the windshield and obscured his view. Minhyun rolled his window down. Strong heat blasted into his face, and he rolled Jonghyun’s down too. Minhyun's breaths scratched their way from his lungs. 

“Do you need to pull over?” Jonghyun was asking. “Are you okay?” Minhyun couldn’t tell how cold it was, but he’d had close calls before. Minhyun could salvage this one too. 

The fog hardened into ornate, icy crystals.

Jonghyun rested his hand on Minhyun’s arm. It burned. 

His eyes were big and knowing and sad, but his voice was solid. “Pull over,” he said, and Minhyun obeyed without question. The car stopped on the shoulder of the highway, trees on one side, open road on the other. “You need to breathe, Minhyun.”

In response, Minhyun sucked in a shallow breath. Jonghyun still had his hand on Minhyun’s arm and it was still warm, and Minhyun wanted to look at him again but couldn’t. He focused on the comfort of Jonghyun's hand on his freezing skin.

Jonghyun would hate him for this. Minhyun was a liar. While Jonghyun had taken everything with dignity, Minhyun cowered. Minhyun was a coward. He got away with the same thing that ruined Jonghyun’s life, and he’d kept it a secret for years and years and years. 

Jonghyun said nothing, but his thumb rubbed gentle lines across Minhyun’s arm. There was no time anymore, only the occasional car.

“I’m so sorry.” Minhyun hung his head so he wouldn’t see Jonghyun’s face. Jonghyun’s motions against his arm faltered. 

“It was my fault,” Minhyun said. There was water gathering in his eyes, and he didn’t blink even though it stung. He didn’t want to cry here. “What happened to you.” 

Jonghyun’s fingers curled around Minhyun’s arm. “You think that? Minhyun…”

Minhyun gave in and blinked, and liquid coated his cheeks. On the windshield, delicate lines of frost thawed. A water droplet trailed down, down, down, until it ran out of strength to journey onward.

“I should’ve stopped it from happening,” Minhyun said. “I should’ve told you that you telling them you were magical wasn’t an option at all.” 

Jonghyun’s grip tightened. “Minhyun, it’s been years. You—you shouldn’t—” 

“There was so much I could’ve done better.” 

Jonghyun's eyes danced with a mix of emotion Minhyun couldn’t even begin to decipher. One more failure on an eight-year list. 

“I don’t blame you,” Jonghyun said. “I never thought it was your fault.” His words kept the world moving. 

Minhyun’s throat would shatter if a single sound left it. He blinked, and more tears streamed from his eyes. They ached, and he rubbed at one, puffy eyelid under dry knuckles. 

Minhyun had run that final conversation with Jonghyun through his head a billion times, and his own actions had never made sense. 

He had stood aside and let Jonghyun leave. He had let Jonghyun turn himself in. Jonghyun had defended his decision with a vague ‘they’re here because of me, and if I don’t tell them it’s me, I might be the reason someone else is caught’ as his reasoning, and Minhyun hadn't bought it but let him go anyway. 

The kicker was that Jonghyun had been right. Minhyun's own magic exploded out of him only weeks later. Jonghyun had saved him without even knowing. 

Minhyun was still crying. He rubbed his hand under his eye, but there was too much water to collect it all. Jonghyun patted his shoulder, then let go. His arm slid between Minhyun’s back and the seat until it found Minhyun’s opposite shoulder and forced him to bridge the gap between them. 

It wasn’t really a hug. They both had their seatbelts on, and it was uncomfortable before anything else. But if Minhyun dipped his head until the tendons stretching down his neck pulled, he could rest his head on Jonghyun’s shoulder. Minhyun breathed in his own flowery fabric softener. 

“How do you feel?” Jonghyun asked.

Like his eyelids weighed a ton, and his entire body was numb. There were pins and needles, pins and needles, and Minhyun’s chest was too tight for air. 

“I just… want to go home.".

“Then we’ll go home," Jonghyun said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone make your best frozen joke (actually i just like stealing imagery from nuest mvs) also let me know if you caught any of the foreshadowing for min's magic!
> 
> i like this chapter a lot and everything's gonna all come together soon!! im super excited!!


	6. This is How the Story Goes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you kept such a big secret for so long, it was easy to convince yourself that you were wrong, that you were crazy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for some blood!!

This is how the story goes:

In the year 1970, a masked man stumbled on an open road. The butchered sun spilled scarlet over the city, but the fall chill weighed down the hunched streetwalkers.

Layers of fabric lumped over the man. He sweated. A car honked, and its driver’s hands flashed, but his words were muted by the windshield’s glass.

Later, an onlooker would claim the masked man screamed, but another called him silent. A third would say he dropped to his knees, and his arms embraced himself.

That was when the road exploded.

The nearby car flipped once, twice, but didn’t manage a third. Metal crunched. Streetwalkers fell.

The explosion killed fifteen.

A flame swirled from the sparking electrical box, and in the safety of the aftershocks, the world exploded again.

The fire killed twenty-one.

This is how the story goes:

In the year 2010, the grandmother clock strikes zero. Dongho’s family had a disease embedded in their genes, and his brother won that lottery.

Dongho didn’t cry. He understood; he was old enough. But he didn’t cry.

That was when his brother lost his hearing.

It wasn’t a big deal, Dongho insisted. Their hearing-impaired grandmother had still enjoyed his school’s chorus concert; in fact, Dongho was near certain she enjoyed it more than anyone else.

His conviction didn’t work. His brother cried.

“I don’t know what to do,” Dongho said to his cluster of friends, the only people he dared search out and force to listen. They stared back, crunched together in a closet with brooms as their witnesses and mops to keep the minutes.

In the years since, they’d all tried to take credit for the idea, but no one remembered who suggested they learn sign language together.

Dongho taught them the words he knew and found solace in it. A way to help.

Minhyun, too, found something in silence filled with words, and a month later, it was through sign language that Minhyun admitted his uncle passed away. His hands stuttered and faltered, and it was only Dongho’s prevailing knowledge that got them through it, but the lack of spoken words helped.

Only in this way could Minhyun say it; only in this way could Minhyun lie.

It wasn’t devastation that blocked Minhyun’s throat, and his uncle never died. Headlines blasted news about the expulsion of the Queen’s magical brother.

Minhyun’s mother appeared over and over to reassure that everyone was safe from these treacherous users of magic, the ones who killed thirty-six people in 1970 and another hundred in assorted incidents since. His father also spoke, and then his sister.

In the end, it took a larger event within the royal family to dispel the whisperings: the reveal of the young prince. But Minhyun didn’t know that yet. When he was fourteen, he believed secrets lasted forever.

And so, in the language they learned because of Dongho’s love for his brother and his anger at his genes, Minhyun lied about his uncle and his fear of his genes.

This is how the story goes:

In the year 2012, vultures circled over Minhyun’s school, and Minhyun stumbled as though wounded.

MAGIC DISCOVERED AT SCHOOL ATTENDED BY PRINCE by Lee Euijin

HERE’S HOW WELL THE GOVERNMENT CONTROLS MAGIC by Yoo Mina

The articles couldn’t mention the magical minor by name, but Minhyun was fair game. Minhyun wasn’t the magical teen.

Minhyun was the Prince.

He holed up within the castle, and avoided conversations about leaving school. His parents claimed it wasn’t safe, and they said so before the map of the world spread across the wall like the view from a spaceship far from Earth. Minhyun tried to make peace with looking at the world from the outside.

But this wasn’t a short storm. Minhyun could evade tutors and burn through his anger, but when the pressure only built and built and built, his arms embraced himself, and frost crystallized on the walls.

That was when Minhyun learned what Jonghyun had done for him.

He discovered how much he owed Jonghyun, and how much he’d never be able to tell him.

But Minhyun knew the way forward: he told his parents he was scared. It wasn't a lie, not while the school security was up in arms, reeling from the discovery of magic. It was volatile, too involved in the search for other magical children.

He couldn’t go back.

Minhyun still hid in his room. He hid until the frost faded, and all that was left was the frostbite across his skin. His parents allowed him his solitude, and then it was that that embraced him in the absence of all else.

Even when the isolation worried his parents, and he returned to school.

This is how Minhyun’s story ends. Always with isolation. Always with secrets. Always with the pervasive fear that the longer he keeps his story going, the worse his magical attacks grow, and the higher his chance of causing some disaster.

But now Minhyun has lost his secret, and he has no idea what will happen.

This is how the world ends. Not with an explosion, but with a silence he can't fill with words.

Minhyun wasn’t crying. His entire face had gone numb, but the mirror showed his own dry, dry eyes. He breathed through his mouth, and he was suspended before his reflection as though time had stopped.

Minhyun never did this. Sure, he looked at his own face, but that was where he stopped. Now his eyes roamed down. The mark like frostbite had left its intricate lines and swirls across his bare chest.

His uncle had never married, never had kids, and other than on Chuseok, where he drank too much and laughed too little, never bothered much with his relatives. On the holiday, he would clap Minhyun on the shoulder and ask him about school, and if he asked Minhyun about his grades twice in twenty minutes, then Minhyun told him they were good twice.

He had seemed like everyone else. His uncle wasn’t anything magical until he was, and now Minhyun was well on his track to become the man.

Minhyun’s fingers pressed into the sprawling, ugly mark that had once spread like a rash. The network of sickly, reddish lines crisscrossed towards his collarbones and jutted over his sternum. Once it had been small. Once.

Sometimes Minhyun used concealer on its top edge, despite that it wasn’t high enough to show above the collar of anything he wore. Sometimes Minhyun dug his fingers into the lines, and they burned like fire, and it was the only thing that convinced Minhyun this was truly happening.

When you kept such a big secret for so long, it was easy to convince yourself that you were wrong, that you were crazy.

But now Jonghyun knew. The final card had dropped and this was real, and Minhyun would lose his crown. He’d lose his family.

At least he wouldn't have this secret anymore. Under the mark, under his skin, under the magic under his skin, there was relief.

But it was false.

His reflection grew blurry; the mirror fogged. Minhyun couldn't look at it, so he turned to his bed and threw on the shirt he'd abandoned there previously. When he turned back, the mirror now had lines of frost running down it.

The exposure of his magic wouldn’t rid him of it. He’d lose everything but the magic.

Minhyun fled.

His feet took him toward Jonghyun, but he wasn’t strong enough to knock on his door. Minhyun lingered outside. He wanted to talk to him more. Jonghyun had never even told Minhyun what kind of magic he could do or why he was back or anything.

Minhyun rubbed his hands down his arms. He should’ve grabbed a sweater and put slippers on. The stone floors of the castle leached the warmth straight out of him.

If he asked Jonghyun to keep his secret, would he do it? Minhyun rested his palm on the door, then curled it into a fist. All he had to was ask.

Or not. Minhyun kept walking with jerky, short strides and none of his usual poise. Who was he to demand Jonghyun give up his secrets? Or keep Minhyun's? Jonghyun might not blame him for what happened, but Minhyun was the beneficiary. He owed Jonghyun everything, and Jonghyun owed him nothing.

The door to Minhyun’s study swung open without a sound. Minhyun let the door shut behind him and stood before the red and gold tapestry that stretched along the cream-colored wall. He’d picked it, years ago. It had been Minhyun who filled the bookshelves here with novels and poetry, some of the only books within the castle not selected for rareness and the beauty of their covers.

His PC balanced on a desk, adjacent to a large window with ornately patterned glass. Minhyun slid into the seat before it but didn’t yet grab the mouse.

Maybe there was a way to learn Jonghyun’s secrets without forcing him to say them. Now that Minhyun calmed, his rationality followed. He shouldn’t bother Jonghyun with this stuff.

The National Registry of Magic Users listed the names of known magical people. A quick search of Jonghyun’s name would bring up his file there. It would be easier for everyone if Minhyun found the information himself.

The Registry had haunted Minhyun over the years. He’d watched his uncle’s name appear in it, and he could’ve watched Jonghyun’s too, but Minhyun was a coward.

The computer screen burned a bright, damning white. Minhyun might be too afraid to ask Jonghyun, but this was something he had to know. This way, he didn’t force Jonghyun to talk about it.

Minhyun’s clammy hand found the computer mouse. The cursor blinked.

He made a typo in Jonghyun’s name and had to rewrite it. There was only one Kim Jonghyun in the system.

He clicked it before he could reconsider, then nearly pressed ‘back’ before it could load.

Too late—there it was, on the blocky website.

Name: Kim Jonghyun  
ID Number: undisclosed  
Born: 1995  
Ability: Nubikinesis  
Ability Classification: Nonthreatening  
Record: No past offenses.

Image: [link]

Exactly what Minhyun expected. Nothing shocking. Nothing threatening. Minhyun never should’ve been scared to look at it. Yeah, Jonghyun had been mysterious since he returned, but he wasn’t dangerous. Kim Jonghyun would never be dangerous.

The corners of Minhyun’s mouth lifted. It was almost cute to imagine Jonghyun controlling clouds. He was so harmless.

Maybe there was hope for Minhyun. Despite everything, Jonghyun was still Jonghyun. Things had happened, of course, but he still liked seeing koi and visiting his old friends, and he was glad he'd returned to Minhyun.

In the end, Minhyun’s magical ability only lowered temperatures. That was like nothing, barely more than messing with clouds. If Jonghyun could still be Jonghyun, Minhyun could still be Minhyun.

He should go talk to Jonghyun now. They should talk through magic and secrets, and maybe now that Minhyun knew about this, Jonghyun would open up about everything else. They could finally talk again, like the old times.

Minhyun clicked on the image link. He remembered sixteen-year-old Jonghyun all too well, and without any arrests, the photo would be his old one from whichever of the magical boarding schools he was sent to, where he learned to control his abilities.

The photo showed a boy in a school uniform. He had his hair cropped short, and it cut off three buttons down his shirt. His tie was off-center, and the background was a solid gray.

It wasn’t Jonghyun.

Minhyun backed from the page. Okay, so they’d made a mistake and used the wrong photo. Maybe they messed up. Jonghyun wasn't the rarest name, maybe there was another entry. His hand trembled, and it took longer than it should’ve for Minhyun to redefine the search for all Jonghyuns born in the 1990s.

Nothing. Minhyun pulled his arms in close as the cold chased him. Not now. Not here. Not again.

Minhyun took the birth year refinement off the search, and another result loaded. There was a Park Jonghyun born in 2001 in the system.

No matter how unlikely, Minhyun checked the image anyway and confirmed what he’d known since the beginning.

Jonghyun wasn’t in the Registry. He was magical and in the castle and not in the Registry. No wonder he hadn’t been scared to return here; his discovery wouldn’t have mattered.

Jonghyun had lied to Minhyun. Jonghyun was lying to him now. Minhyun had allowed someone magical into the castle without asking any questions, and now Jonghyun knew Minhyun’s greatest secret, and Minhyun knew none of his.

He’d been gullible. Minhyun had walked into this, as surely as he’d created the cold that had him shivering and the creeping numbness spreading along his limbs.

His breath clouded like smoke in the air, and Minhyun jumped back as though he could run from the cold. It wrapped around him, and he embraced himself as his lungs hardened to ice.

Minhyun really didn't know why Jonghyun had come back. Jonghyun had done everything to avoid telling him.

The world froze further, and then it shattered.

The bang slammed into Minhyun. He stumbled back and thudded to the floor and maybe he cried out, but he didn't know. His cheek burned. Maybe he'd smashed it against the floor. Except when he touched his face, his hand returned wet and hot with blood.

But just like that, everything stopped. Warmth flooded into the room. Nothing else moved. The light of Minhyun's PC blinded him to all else behind it. 

He started to stand, one hand on the ground for support, but recoiled from a stab in his palm. He clutched his hand to his chest.

Blood welled in the center of it; something sharp had cut him. Minhyun finally got his feet under him, and he flicked the light switch and saw glass everywhere. All over the floor, the desk. He'd been lucky not to step on it.

The glass covered everything, except within the window's frame. Minhyun had shattered it. A few cracked pieces hung on at the bottom and from the sides. One fell and bounced against his desk.

Another warm wind rushed through the room, and Minhyun backed towards his door. The curtain fluttered like a ghost.

Someone was going to see this. There was no chance for him to hide it. Someone would come and see this and _know--_

The door crashed open behind him. Minhyun whirled around on shaky legs and stumbled, his cry crackling through the air even as he regained his balance.

“Minhyun!” Their head of security motioned him over, and Minhyun had never been so scared to see Taeseon in his life.

“Get over here,” Taeseon ordered. The first step took Minhyun forever; the others carried on like dominoes. Taeseon patted his back as Minhyun passed by, but it provided Minhyun no comfort.

Another man stood in the hallway. His graying stubble crept up high on his cheeks, and he looked down on Minhyun. There was a gun at his side, and one of his hands rested on it. Prepared. Poised. More focused on the hallway, like an assailant would emerge from the shadows at any moment.

Minhyun didn’t know how to tell him there wasn’t a threat.

“You’re okay,” the man said. He spared Minhyun a glance. “The glass cut you, but it’s not deep. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

It looked bad?

The man didn’t spare any more words. Instead, he led Minhyun along with a firm hand on his back, toward a small sitting room he never used. Minhyun resisted.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“It’s a safe room, Your Highness. You need to go in there.”

Right. No windows, no outside walls. The man had followed protocol. Minhyun set his bloody hand on a table before he remembered not to touch anything.

The man clicked the lock for the room, and Minhyun tried not to feel cornered.

“Moon Hoyoung, retired army lieutenant with a magical defense specialization, currently in charge of your family’s security.”

“Oh,” Minhyun mumbled. He had heard that name before. “You’re—you’re new, right? Is everyone okay?” Minhyun couldn’t have hurt anyone, right? What had happened that warranted safety protocols?

“They’re fine. We heard the crash. What happened?”

Fuck. They didn’t know. Of course they didn’t know. “I—” Minhyun didn’t have time to make a story. “I have no idea,” he said. “It just broke. The window, I mean. The window broke.” He felt like a child again, with lies that at the time he found impressive but in reality, never stood up.

Minhyun shifted his hand and remembered the cut on it. He pulled it closer to his chest.

The door opened, and Moon Hoyoung spun around, so he and his gun were in between it and Minhyun. As if Minhyun needed another reminder that Hoyoung thought there was an attacker in the castle right now.

Taeseon motioned Sunhwa through the door. She stumbled, in her nightclothes and with her hair unbrushed, clearly still regaining awareness. The blood on Minhyun did wonders to finish the process.

“Minhyun!” She raced over to him but stopped short. Sunhwa reached for his hand first.

“I’m okay,” he promised, but his voice shook enough that he doubted it convinced anyone.

“You ready?” Taeseon asked, and Minhyun stumbled towards an answer before he realized Taeseon was asking Hoyoung, who surveyed Minhyun and Sunhwa one final time before following. The door shut and locked.

The patterned, ornate wood glared back at Minhyun. They weren’t going to find anything. They weren’t going to find anything at all.

Minhyun was going to be discovered.

“Minhyun. Minhyun, look at me.” Sunhwa touched his shoulder, and he jerked back. “Hey.” She set her hand more firmly on him. “You need to breathe.”

"Noona, I..."

“Here, c’mon,” Sunhwa said. She had him sit on one of the fancy chairs, then rifled through an unassuming cabinet.

“There’s a first aid kit here?” Minhyun asked. He almost laughed as she pulled it out. Everything was weird and wrong, and his heart still hadn’t slowed.

“This is a saferoom.” Sunhwa sat beside him and opened the kit. “Of course it has one.”

“Right, I knew that. Is it bad?”

“Look at me.” Sunhwa had a washcloth in her hand. She wiped his face, and the cloth pulled at his skin. “Don’t make that face. I need to clean it.”

Minhyun wasn’t sure what face he made. “Is it bad?” he repeated.

“You’re fine.” There was no way she got the blood off with the dry rag, but after pressing it to his face for another minute, she stuck a large band-aid to his cheek.

Minhyun offered her his hurt hand next. “Have you met Moon Hoyoung before?”

“Barely.” She rubbed the cloth over his palm, and he flinched back. “Stop moving. He’s... really intense about things. I guess we need that though.” The cloth shook in her grip, but Minhyun needed answers before he could comfort her.

“Why was he here tonight?” Minhyun asked. “Like, at the castle.”

Sunhwa frowned. “Didn’t Mom tell you?”

“Something happened?”

“They’ve got some new way to sense magic here, and the measurements have been off the walls.”

Minhyun dug his nails into his leg. “What?” He choked on the word. Sunhwa didn’t seem to notice his panic, as she placed a band-aid that would never stick over his palm.

“Minhyun—I have to ask you something,” she asked. She patted down the band-aid an extra time.

She knew. Sunhwa knew he had bullshitted everything.

“Who the hell did you bring here? From the Memorial. I knew almost everyone there but him, and he’s still here isn’t he?”

Jonghyun. Fuck, they were investigating people and looking for who to blame for an attack, and Jonghyun was out there, minding his own business and probably asleep. Or not. Minhyun knew nothing about Jonghyun, except Minhyun also knew everything because it was _Jonghyun._

How was he supposed to explain any of this to Sunhwa?

“That was just—just Jonghyun.” No point in keeping his name secret now. “He’s a friend of mine from school.”

Moon Hoyoung had equipment that measured magic. Jonghyun might think he was safe, somehow removed from the Registry, but he would be caught. Him and Minhyun both. They weren't safe here.

“Why was he at the Memorial? And why the secrecy?” Sunhwa demanded. She wrinkled her nose. “Are you two...”

Minhyun had missed something. “Are we what?”

“Is he your way of trying to, like, clue Mom in? Because, one, Mom won't notice. And two, she told you eons ago she doesn't care who you date. I mean, within reason. But if your--Jonghyun--came to the Memorial to support you or something, you know that's okay, right? She'd be glad to meet him. Hell, I would've wanted to meet him."

“No he’s—” Minhyun needed to pick a reasonable story and stick with it, and Sunhwa had just offered him one. Minhyun tried not to think about the exact words too hard, but they still had his ears burning. “Yeah. Yeah, we really—care about each other.”

That wasn’t a lie, at least. Minhyun looked at the door, still as heavy and wooden and imposing as ever. “That's why I need to find him. Now. What if he’s hurt? They could have--”

Minhyun’s chair scraped across the hard floor. Sunhwa caught his arm before he finished standing.

“Minhyun,” she said, but it was more like a plea. “What’s going on? This isn’t like you…You’re shaking.”

“I’m just concerned about--about Jonghyun.” Minhyun choked out his name. The absent entry in the Registry burned in Minhyun's mind. Jonghyun had some massive secret, and he was in danger, and Minhyun didn't know anything that could help him.

“Is it him setting off the sensors?” Sunhwa asked. “Is he—?”

“He’d never hurt anyone!” Minhyun insisted. “He didn’t do this.”

“You let someone magical inside the castle?” Sunhwa’s voice dropped to a hiss.

“I didn’t—I didn’t say that.” But Minhyun re-winded the conversation, and it was true he hadn’t denied it. “Noona, I need to go.”

“Don’t you dare.” Some authority leaked into her voice, and Minhyun stopped despite himself. “Minhyun, someone just tried to kill you.”

“There wasn’t anyone!”

“You’re bleeding,” Sunhwa said. “Taeseon said he heard the crash, and he wasn’t even in your wing!”

If Minhyun said anything else, he’d betray his own secrets. And so, he sat back down, closed his fist, and welcomed the sting.

“Taeseon and Hoyoung’ll be back soon,” Sunhwa promised. “Wait until then.”

Minhyun bounced his foot for an hour. Sunhwa checked his hand and cheek twice more, not removing the band-aids but ensuring he didn’t bleed through them.

“I don’t think you’re hurt too badly,” she asserted, both times. Minhyun did his best to care.

He was going to be the reason he lost Jonghyun. Again. And he was going to lose a lot more than Jonghyun. Minhyun had laid sloppy foundations to protect his own secret that was already getting out, and there was no way he’d keep everything straight.

But Minhyun had to try, and right now, that meant waiting and sharing in Sunhwa’s hopes that Hoyoung and Taeseon found whoever attacked Minhyun.

When Hoyoung returned, he was alone. Eyes stern, set in a face where they sunk in deep. “Minhyun,” he said, and Minhyun didn't like how now the detective dropped his title. Did he know? “I need to talk to you.”

The wooden door shut behind him. Minhyun tried not to fidget. He couldn’t think about Jonghyun now. Minhyun had to lie, and he had to lie well.

“Did you find him?” Sunhwa demanded. “The attacker?”

Hoyoung shook his head. What a surprise.

“Are you sure you didn’t see anyone?” Hoyoung asked. He sat across the table from them.

“No one," Minhyun said.

“What about around the castle in general. Someone reported a suspicious person the other day.”

Minhyun had nothing to add, and so he only shook his head. In his peripherals, Sunhwa gave him a meaningful look, but he ignored it. He had no idea what she meant by it, anyway. Jonghyun wasn’t a suspicious person, even if he was a secretive one.

“The person was described as a slight, dark-haired man, not too tall...” He dragged out the last word like he knew Minhyun knew something, and Minhyun cracked.

“That wasn’t an intruder. A friend of mine is staying with me.”

Now Sunhwa made a sound high in her throat. Hoyoung glanced at her, but she didn’t add anything. Sunhwa probably wanted Minhyun to admit it himself, but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t tell Hoyoung anything.

“We don’t have any records of any guests staying here,” Hoyoung said.

“It’s a recent situation.”

“That’s against protocol. How did he get in?”

“They’ve screened his stuff already.” It came out defensive, and Hoyoung paused to let it sit on the table between them. They both knew Minhyun had done something wrong.

“And his name? Has anyone seen his ID?”

“He’s been a friend of mine since we were kids. I’m allowed to have guests.”

“I have a lot of experience with magic, Your Highness,” Hoyoung said, and nausea churned in Minhyun’s stomach. He didn't want to discuss magic with someone like this. “An attack like what happened to you—”

“They broke a window!” Minhyun blurted out. “No one hurt me or anything. All I did was get hit by a piece of glass.”

“Magic is complicated,” Hoyoung said. “I can’t give you the answers you want. But that room’s covered in magic. Something happened.”

“You found magic?” Minhyun asked. So Sunhwa was right. They could measure it now. “How?”

“That’s confidential,” Hoyoung said.

“From me?” Now Minhyun looked at Sunhwa. She avoided direct eye contact. Was she considering betraying him? She wouldn’t do that, right?

“The Queen doesn’t want you to worry about such things,” Hoyoung said. His thinned lips and sour expression made his own thoughts on that clear. Minhyun didn’t like it himself; he and Sunhwa didn’t need to be coddled. “I will take care of it. But first—”

Hoyoung set his hand on the table and leaned towards Minhyun. “If I’m right about this, you put your entire family in danger.”

“You think it’s my fault?” Minhyun’s voice cracked in the middle of it. He tried to push it off as incredulity or leftover adrenaline or something.

“Security measures exist for a reason. You ignored them.”

“It wasn’t Jonghyun,” Minhyun said.

“There’s magic all over this place,” Hoyoung said. He stood and gave Minhyun a long once over, then spared a glance towards Sunhwa. “Don’t leave this room until we contact you.”

Minhyun couldn’t argue. He was supposed to think there was a threat.

Once alone, Minhyun waited for Sunhwa to speak again, to chime in with more chiding, an older sister with the wisdom of two extra years and none of the grace of when to say it and when to not. She didn’t, and he realized he was being unfair.

The first hour ticked by. The second slithered, and they did their best to sleep—Sunhwa curled in a chair, Minhyun on the floor, propped against the wall.

At some point, Minhyun’s phone died, and the windowless room didn’t offer any indication of the time. When Hoyoung finally opened the door, Minhyun was disoriented and uncertain whether it was morning or still night or what. 

Hoyoung didn’t mention any arrests or suspects, but Minhyun found Jonghyun’s door wide open.

The mirror was cracked like something had been thrown into it. The room was empty. Jonghyun was gone.

Minhyun fell against the doorway and wished he hadn't known this would happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the angstiest thing I've ever written lmao man is Min not having a good time. But also!! Things are happening!! 
> 
> Apologies for the slow updates. Really, it's mostly because this story is a little weird, but I'm also really proud of it, so it worries me a lot that people won't like it 😅 Nice comments (even very short ones!) help a lot, so thank you to everyone reading and commenting!


	7. Innocence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He won’t cooperate, Your Highness. He hasn’t said a word, ever since he was taken into custody.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fair warning that all i know about law and detectives and police is from american tv shows

Part of Minhyun wanted to argue that Jonghyun had had it coming.

He’d returned to the castle despite his magic. He’d refused to open up to Minhyun, and he’d lied—or at the very least omitted information—information that Minhyun still didn’t know.

But even though Jonghyun had done all of that, he didn’t commit the crime for which he was arrested. Jonghyun was innocent, and if Minhyun let him take the fall here, he’d make Jonghyun suffer for Minhyun’s mistakes. Again.

That wasn’t an option. But, apparently, neither was a quick rescue.

Minhyun was in his mother’s study. She’d pulled him into a hug at the first opportunity, and tried to send him off to bed. He’d watched her do the same to Sunhwa only minutes earlier, but while Sunhwa went, Minhyun didn’t.

“When will the lockdown end?” he asked. His mom’s short hair was messy, her overall impression less stable than he’d seen in a long time. He always remembered her standing tall, chin in the air, able to summon this air of power he and Sunhwa still had never managed to perfect. Right now, it was dreadfully obvious that Minhyun was nearly a foot taller than her.

Her study was decorated as neatly as everywhere else in the castle, but by volume, there was more. Where the other rooms, Minhyun’s included, preferred something ranging from cold minimalism to warm but sparse decorations, the Queen liked to keep things busy. It made the room seem both messier than others, and warmer.

“They have to make sure it’s safe first,” she said.

“ Who’s ‘they?’” Minhyun asked. “Detective Moon said you haven’t told Sunhwa and me everything.”

“Don’t treat it like a big secret. It was a precaution. I thought Sunhwa was worried about enough things, and you’re here so rarely—”

“We were in danger, and you didn’t tell us.”

“Minhyun,” she said. “It’s nothing new. We’ve known about the magical rebellions for a long time. I was nervous—and clearly for good reason.”

“Because it’s getting worse?”

“You were attacked, Minhyun. In our home.” Her voice ran with deserved incredulity. Minhyun had to remember there was supposed to be someone out there who’d tried to harm him.

“But no one was around,” Minhyun argued. “How do we know someone didn’t just…throw something at the window?”

“Hoyoung is investigating. He’ll determine what happened.”

“I don’t like him.”

“He saved you.”

Minhyun bit back his immediate retort that he hadn’t needed to be saved. If he kept insisting he hadn’t been in danger, someone was bound to believe him. It would get ugly quick if they figured out there truly hadn’t been an attacker.

“Taeseon was there first,” Minhyun said. “Where’s he, at least?”

“Also patrolling, I imagine. Hoyoung has authority over him in this case.”

“Detective Moon accused me of playing a role in what happened. He said I put everyone in danger.”

It was something Minhyun maybe should’ve kept to himself, but he wanted Moon Hoyoung out of this situation as soon as possible.

His mom set a hand against her desk, like the relayed accusation floored her so much she’d lost her balance. “What did he say?” she asked, and for the first time, Minhyun had her entire attention.

He tried not to feel guilty for pushing this now, when she had so much happening all at once. But she should be pissed that Hoyoung accused her son. Minhyun certainly was.

“He arrested my friend. My guest here. With absolutely no evidence he was involved.”

It wasn’t what his mother expected, that was clear enough. “You had a friend here?”

“I got permission for it.” Vaguely. “It was only for a few days. But he’s gone, and I need to know what happened to him. There was broken glass in his room.”

“If he’s a suspect…”

“He’s my friend.”

His mother sighed. “In any case, Minhyun, there’s a lockdown right now. If they arrested him, he’s at the police station. You’ll have to wait until they lift the lockdown.”

“They lifted it already. That’s why we’re not in saferooms anymore.”

“Not for the grounds. And certainly not outside of them.”

Minhyun tried to reign in his frustration. This was still his mother, after all. The last thing he wanted to do was disrespect her, especially tonight.

“I’m supposed to leave here tomorrow,” Minhyun said. “Am I going to be trapped here instead? I have obligations.”

Minhyun wasn’t lying. He had already begun to arrange appearances with cafes and coffee shops, using personnel from local police stations as his security. He liked noncontroversial places, with a casual feel. In two weeks, he was speaking at the grand opening of a new history museum.

“No,” the Queen said. “You can still go.”

Minhyun repressed a sudden ‘really?’ but his shock must have shown on his face.

“It’s not my plan to trap you here, Minhyun. I don’t think it would be good for you. But just—make sure you know what you’re doing. Don’t get involved in things you know are wrong.”

Minhyun tried to keep up with the conversation, but his mom steamed on ahead.

“You like when things tie up nicely together, but not everything works like that. Sometimes, you need to leave certain things behind. You can’t make them better.”

“I’m not leaving my friend.”

A pause. Minhyun wasn’t sure if he’d misunderstood his mom’s point or not.

Then, finally, “wait until the lockdown is lifted, and I’ll contact Hoyoung. You can talk to your friend.”

“They’ll let him go?” Minhyun pressed.

“You can talk to him.”

That was all Minhyun would get. He bade her goodbye and tried to convince himself it was enough. Barring an attempt to sneak past security, there was nothing else he could do.

Minhyun would have to hope Jonghyun would be okay until he got there.

The walk to his room only took a few minutes. Minhyun’s study had yellow caution tape blocking the doorway—Police line do not cross, police line do not cross—despite how the door itself was ajar. He didn’t bother to look inside. He knew what he’d see there.

Once inside his room, Minhyun locked the door and glared at his bed. It was made, of course, without a wrinkle on it. Normally, the sight was comforting. Now he couldn’t imagine sleeping there. The leftover energy led him to pace the distance from the door to his nightstand and back again. It didn’t help.

The late morning sun gleamed through the sheer curtains lining his window. He didn’t often sleep late, so he’d never bothered to get curtains that fully blocked the sun. Now, as he sat on his bed, the light burned his eyes no matter his position.

Finally, Minhyun laid down, just to be free of it.

He didn’t bother to turn the overhead light off in his room. Minhyun couldn’t sleep with Jonghyun gone.

The hair rose on his arms, but it wasn’t the horrible chill from before. A strange numbness brushed down his limbs, like saran wrap rubbed against his skin. Minhyun slipped under his comforter. He couldn’t deal with magic right now.

His phone was ringing. Minhyun jolted upright with a quick gasp, and the room slid sideways. He blinked in the bright light to orient himself, and the phone rang again. Minhyun scrambled to grab it before he realized it wasn’t his cell ringing but the emergency castle line. He jumped out of bed and nearly fell when his foot caught in his sheets.

Maybe this was his mother letting him know the lockdown had ended.

Or not. The ID said it was the grounds line calling him. Someone from the main gate was calling.

“Hello?”

“Sorry to bother you, Your Highness.” The man sounded nervous—this line was for emergencies only. They’d fired staff who’d misused it before.

“What—what happened?” Minhyun asked. He frowned at the stutter and tried to clear the fuzz from his head.

“Well, there’s someone here for you at the gates. Two individuals, actually. Choi Minki and Kwak Aaron. Their names are approved, but with current security—I thought I should ask, and they, um, refused to speak to anyone but you.”

Minhyun’s mind spun around a couple times but still couldn’t catch up. Aaron and Minki? At the gates? “Is the lockdown over?” he asked.

“It was lifted an hour ago, Your Highness.”

And he’d fallen asleep. Dammit. Minhyun turned toward his mirror and straightened his clothes.

“And—and they’re waiting there now?” Jonghyun had said he’d told Minki to come by, but this was the worst possible timing.

“Yes. Should I let them in?”

“No!” Minhyun said. Minki was magical. The last thing Minhyun needed was whatever sensors Hoyoung had set up going off, and Minki being arrested too. “No, I’ll meet them. Tell them—tell them this is a bad time, so I don’t have long, but I’ll be there soon. Don’t let them through the gate. Tell them to wait for me.”

They were going to tear him a new one. He’d lost Jonghyun. Minhyun should have pushed Jonghyun to stay with Dongho, where he would’ve been safer.

Walking to the far gates would take around twenty minutes, so Minhyun instead went by car. He didn’t have time to hesitate—and yet he found himself doing just that. Minhyun had given little thought to what he’d say to Minki and Aaron, and he had never expected to meet them under these circumstances.

He wished Jonghyun was here. Not that Jonghyun would say much, but still, Minhyun would’ve preferred his presence. Even after all these years, he made a good buffer.

But Minhyun couldn’t wait any longer. His car’s engine was quiet, even more so on the dark pavement within the castle grounds. They’d redone them only last year; Minhyun hadn’t been around, but Sunhwa had complained about using the smaller staff gate due to the ongoing construction.

The main gate had always been imposing. There were a lot of large iron bars that now unfurled before him. Minhyun pulled through and into the grass in front of Minki and Aaron’s car.

It was small and red, both less sleek and more conspicuous than Minhyun’s. Still, something about it made sense. Of course Aaron and Minki would have a car like this. Maybe they hadn’t changed all that much after all.

Minhyun got out and walked to the front of his car. Finally, Aaron and Minki’s doors opened. 

Despite everything, Minhyun had to take the time to drink in the sight of them. Aaron had been driving, and now, as he approached, Minhyun kept waiting for him to get taller, even when it became clear that he wouldn’t. It wasn’t like Minhyun remembered Aaron as being tall—but he didn’t think he was this small either.

Aaron had a t-shirt and jeans on, nothing too much, though the clothes seemed relatively new. His hair was shorter than how he’d kept it in high school.

Minki’s, too, was shorter than it used to be, and no longer dyed the blond color that used to annoy their teachers to no end. Unlike Aaron, he didn’t truly leave the car. Minki’s door stayed open, and he only went a step or two away from it.

“Where’s Jonghyun?” Minki asked. He left his hand on the opened car door. Aaron leaned against his car’s hood. He didn’t stand far away, but he seemed poised to leave at any moment, like Minhyun would ruin everything soon enough.

“He’s okay,” Minhyun said. (Lied.) “There was a security breach, and they’re asking him a few ques—”

Minki turned away like he was going to get back in the car, and Minhyun cut off. It had been a long time since someone treated him with such blatant disrespect.

Aaron hadn’t reacted. Minhyun couldn’t read his expression, and he hated that more than anything.

“It won’t be long. I promise.” Even before the words finished leaving his mouth, Minhyun regretted them. That had been a juvenile thing to say and a lie. In truth, Minhyun would have difficulty getting Jonghyun out. He was a suspect, and if they discovered he was magical, Minhyun didn’t even know what he would be able to do.

None of that was rocket science, and so it wasn’t a surprise when Aaron didn’t answer. What would he say? That he believed Minhyun?

“I’ll call you when he’s out,” Minhyun said. This one was better, because Minhyun refused any other situation. It might take time, but Minhyun wasn’t losing Jonghyun again. Not today.

“We’re never going to see him again,” Minki said. “They’re going to kill him.”

“What? No one’s going to hurt him,” Minhyun said. Despite everything, a flash of outrage jerked through him. He’d forgotten what it was like to have someone unfairly criticize the systems of his country. “We don’t do that. Ever.”

“Right.” Minki rolled his eyes, and now this seemed a little too much like high school. He had always had a more anti-establishment streak to him. When they were kids they used to not talk about it too much, even before Minki found out about Minhyun’s status.

“Why would he come to you?” Minki asked. “He knew this would happen. You had to know this would happen.”

“Dongho offered him a place, but he wanted to stay with me.” The previous warmth Minhyun had felt from Jonghyun wanting to stay had turned cold and hard. Minhyun hadn’t understood Jonghyun’s trust then and for good reason, considering. “He missed us.”

“Jonghyun missed us, so he went to you?” Minki’s question hung in the air, but it was more honest than mocking. He and Aaron exchanged a look that Minhyun couldn’t read. It felt important.

“He couldn’t find anyone else. That’s why I’ve been helping him.” Minhyun wasn’t sure where the bubbling defensiveness came from. It was like Aaron and Minki were having two conversations, one with Minhyun and one above Minhyun’s head.

But they weren’t the ones who’d spoken to Jonghyun recently, and Minhyun had even been the last one to speak with him all those years ago too. If there was one situation Minhyun should understand better than them, it was Jonghyun’s.

“You don’t think it’s off that right after Jonghyun showed up, someone attacked you?” Aaron asked.

“Who said someone attacked me?” Minhyun thinned his lips and tried to refrain from crossing his arms like a child.

“Your face?” Aaron gestured at him with a quick, derisive motion. Minhyun raised gentle fingers to touch the bandage. He’d forgotten about that. “The upped security? It’s obvious something happened.”

“Jonghyun’s not dangerous,” Minhyun said. He had to steer the conversation away from the supposed attack.

“But he is magical,” Minki said. “And you’ve been really clear about how you feel about magic. We saw you on tv the other day, talking about it.”

“That’s different,” Minhyun said. “That’s—Jonghyun’s not evil. He’s not going to hurt anyone.”

“Is that what you’ll tell them?” Minki asked. “When you go try to get Jonghyun out? You’ll say ‘oh he’s not dangerous at all’ and they’ll turn their head?”

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” Minhyun said. “It was just the wrong place, at the wrong time. Look, I’m sorry you came at the wrong time too, but—”

“I knew this was going to happen,” Minki said. “The moment Jonghyun called me.”

“You what?”

Minki snorted bitterly. “You—for some reason—thought it was a good plan to let Jonghyun stay with you, in the castle, when all anyone would talk about back then was how he infiltrated the security around you? How he pretended to be your friend? Of course he was going to be caught.”

“No one has his name,” Minhyun said. “And he’s—things are different.” Jonghyun wasn’t even in the registry anymore. If they looked up his name, nothing damning would come up.

“Why? Because this time you’ll protect him, instead of forgetting he exists and refusing to ever even talk about him?”

“Minki,” Aaron said, like a warning. Minki deflated and turned away.

He’d taken Minhyun's actions as a betrayal back then. Minki had been ready to march out somewhere to save Jonghyun and get him back. Now he seemed willing to do it again.

“I’ll take care of it,” Minhyun said.

“Do that,” Minki said. He finally gave up on being half-in and half-out from the car and ducked back inside.

“Wait,” Minhyun blurted out, when Aaron went to get in too. “Before you go. Are you—are you doing okay? How have you been?”

Time had been kinder to them than it had been to Jonghyun, but Minhyun wanted to know for sure. He wanted to understand why Aaron gave up on his dreams and stayed here instead. He wanted to know whether Aaron regretted it. Hell, Minhyun would settle for Aaron saying anything at this point. He’d been so quiet. 

“Yeah,” Aaron said. “We’re doing well.”

“Dongho said you live together now.”

“Get Jonghyun out first,” Minki said, but he sounded less angry now and more tired. “Then we’ll talk.” He shut his door. 

"Goodbye, Minhyun," Aaron said, and Minhyun managed to say it back, right as Aaron got into their car too. 

Dust lingered in the air, long after they’d disappeared.

There were a few ways this could have gone worse, but a lot of ways it could’ve been better. Still, an overall neutral interaction was likely better than Minhyun deserved, with Jonghyun literally in police custody right now.

Minhyun returned to his car. More than anything, he needed a plan. With one, he could finally regain control of this situation. Once he returned to the castle, he’d speak with his mom about Jonghyun again. Step one, Minhyun had to ensure he was safe despite the imprisonment. Hopefully along the way, Minhyun could figure out more about Hoyoung and what leads he was pursuing.

No one expected Minhyun to lie for Jonghyun, and that would give him an advantage. Though, Minhyun would rather lie as little as possible. This was normal police procedure. If Minhyun had truly been attacked, or if he didn’t know with absolute certainty that Jonghyun would never, ever hurt him, things would have been different.

Maybe Minhyun would have even welcomed Hoyoung's thoroughness.

Right now, however, it was dangerous. Minhyun needed to remember to act scared. He was supposed to be in danger, and he had to act like it.

The easiest way to prove Jonghyun’s innocence would be to admit there had never been a threat, which would only lead to them to discover Minhyun's magic. In the same way, the easiest way for Minhyun to protect his own secret would be for Jonghyun to take the fall for it, and Minhyun refused to let that happen.

It would be difficult to balance all the different stories Minhyun was trying to tell, but he refused to do anything else.

The castle loomed over him as he parked, a massive yet elegant structure. Sometimes when he returned here, it seemed oddly foreign, no matter how many years he had lived within it.

Of course, even as he thought that, he entered it without struggle. Minhyun walked across the polished wooden floors and down a hallway painted a muted lilac. He neared the wing where he’d likely find his mom, but before he reached it, a woman called out to him.

“Your Highness!” She had a uniform on, and her long hair was pulled into a high ponytail. 

“I am Officer Hong Euijin,” she said after she bowed. “Her Majesty the Queen instructed me to wait and speak with you.”

“Do you know who attacked me yet?” Minhyun asked.

“We are working on it.” Officer Hong had a stiff, professional air about her. “But that isn’t why I am here. Last night we arrested someone who...I understand that he was your guest here.”

“Is he okay?” Minhyun’s voice took on an aggressive note, and he cleared his throat but didn’t apologize. He didn’t owe her anything.

“He won’t cooperate,” she said. “Your Highness,” she added, and maybe Minhyun had come off a little strong. “He hasn’t said a word while in custody.”

Of course Jonghyun would go silent. He’d barely spoken with Minhyun, let alone when he was being accused of crimes and kept at the police station. Jonghyun had to be terrified. He had to be remembering what happened to him last time.

“He’s—” Minhyun didn’t know how to defend Jonghyun’s actions. “He’s quiet. Even with me.”

“But he talks to you?” Euijin's voice rose at the end like a question, but she didn’t wait for an answer. “We need to ask him a couple questions, then he can go. He’s not a suspect.”

“He isn’t? But—Detective Moon—”

“Mistakes happen,” Euijin said. “We don’t have any evidence against him that warrants us to keep him in custody.”

It seemed like their laws and protections for those who were arrested would save Jonghyun after all. “Good,” Minhyun said. “That’s good. When will he be released?” He was so fucking lucky.

“Once he answers a couple questions for us,” Euijin repeated. “Actually, I wanted to speak with you about that, too.”

“About questioning him?” Minhyun didn’t like where this was going.

“You have to tell him to talk to us. We need to figure out what happened as soon as possible, and we can’t afford this distraction.”

They wanted Minhyun to betray Jonghyun for them. Except not, because Minhyun was the Prince who kept reiterating that Jonghyun did nothing wrong. Why wouldn’t Minhyun convince Jonghyun to talk to them?

“The questions you want to ask him—are they accusatory? Will you detain him longer depending on how he answers?”

“No,” Euijin said. “Well, if he says he’s magical we would, but he isn’t, so that’s not a concern. We’ll even let you ask them, if you want. It’s the same stuff we’re asking all the staff.”

They didn’t think Jonghyun was magical. Had whatever technology they used made a mistake? Or had they only presumed Jonghyun wasn’t magical because Minhyun had brought him inside of the castle?

After all, why would Minhyun ever willingly go within ten feet of a magical person, right? The funny thing was, he was perfectly fine staying away from all of them, except Jonghyun. Well, and Minki, though Minhyun still wasn’t sure if Minki wanted to be within ten feet of him.

“I didn’t realize how much the technology has advanced,” Minhyun said. “Detective Moon said he measured the amount of magic here.”

“That’s old technology, really,” Euijin said. “It’s gotten better, but it’s far from perfect. We try not to rely on it too much.”

So maybe it had failed to pick up Jonghyun’s magic. If that was true, then it was a stroke of luck so severe Minhyun could hardly believe it happened.

Or perhaps the opposite—maybe it had only been rotten luck that the technology managed to pick up on Minhyun’s. He would have to find out more about it later.

“These questions—shouldn’t they be optional?” Minhyun asked. “Are you demanding all the staff answer them?”

“His answers are particularly important, and it’s suspicious that he refuses to speak with us. We’ve informed him we’ll release him once he does already.”

“He’s innocent,” Minhyun said immediately. “You already know that.”

Euijin shifted, and for the first time, lost the confidence she’d maintained in front of Minhyun. “To tell you the truth, Your Highness, we need him to answer them because it will save us a lot of bother and time. If he answers, we can say we interviewed him at the station and leave it at that.”

“And if he doesn't answer?”

“If he doesn’t answer, then we need to record that he refused to,” Euijin said. “Which then brings up why he came to the station in the first place, and the arrest, and we have to either delete him from the records entirely—which is illegal—or admit it was a mistake, which the papers will write about for weeks. It’ll be a mess for the station and might end up with officers under investigation, and we can’t afford that right now.”

“You shouldn’t have told me that,” Minhyun chided. “It’s immoral for me to aid you in going against protocol.”

“We’re doing our best to keep you and your family safe, Your Highness. We need to move on from this so we can find whoever attacked you,” Euijin said. “But I also understand if you can’t help us. In that case, is there a number I can call once we release…your friend?”

She was trying to bargain with him, but Jonghyun wasn’t a playing card and Minhyun wasn’t a normal player.

“I’m going to see him now,” Minhyun said. “I’ll leave the station once you release him, and not before.”

“Of course, Sir,” she said.

Minhyun kind-of liked that he could cow her, which was odd. He didn’t often take pleasure in power.

“You should want to help us, though,” Euijin added, her words faster, like she didn’t think Minhyun would let her finish. With her stance and how she raised her chin like she was meeting a challenge, it was almost disrespectful. But, newfound love of power or not, Minhyun didn’t refuse to let people speak if they had something to say. “It takes away from our credibility if the public finds out. People won’t trust us.”

She did have a point there. Public trust was everything for any type of law enforcement, and Minhyun should want everything to go smoothly. He did want everything to go smoothly.

“I’ll consider it,” he said. “But sometimes there’s nothing else to do but own up to your mistakes.”

The ride to the station only took fifteen minutes, but Minhyun still found himself watching the numbers on the digital clock at red lights. His car clock ran fast by two minutes, but the calculation to the real time was practiced and near unnoticeable by now.

It was mid-evening, around twelve hours after Jonghyun had been arrested. Minhyun was late, but at least he was about to get Jonghyun. With his confirmed innocence, Minhyun didn’t have to worry about where they went, but he wouldn’t take Jonghyun back to the castle. That was just playing with fire. Hopefully, Jonghyun wouldn’t protest staying in a hotel or a safehouse for a night or two.

And after that, when Minhyun left, Jonghyun could come with him. Minhyun could protect Jonghyun that way. He wouldn’t have to worry about anything.

Minhyun pulled into the small parking lot around the police station and parked next to a police car. Officer Hong pulled in after him.

The station itself had this welcoming air to it—wide doors set on a broad building with large windows. This wasn’t a jail or a place for criminals. This was where concerned citizens could find answers and protection. Minhyun had to block the glare of the sunset off the windows with his hand.

He met Euijin by the front. They entered, and the heavy door made this high-pitched metal squeal as she opened it. Inside, the décor was simple and professional. It could’ve been the entrance to an office, except for the uniform on the man at the desk.

The man greeted them, then added, “I’ll inform Hoyoung that you’re here.”

Minhyun couldn’t prevent that without looking suspicious. With any luck, he wouldn’t have to interact too much with Hoyoung. Minhyun still planned to talk to his mother about replacing him. He had had no right to accuse Minhyun and owed Jonghyun one hell of an apology.

Within minutes, Hoyoung appeared. He wore dress clothes now, rather than a uniform, and barely bothered with a polite greeting.

“If I could have a moment, Your Highness,” he said, but he didn’t quite make it a question. “I’d like to speak with you in my office.”

“We’ve already spoken.” 

“It would help my case if you told me again what happened yesterday. I’m trying to find the person who attacked you.”

Dammit. It would look too suspicious for Minhyun to refuse to speak with him.

Hoyoung led him down the hallway. His office door was propped open, but Minhyun closed it behind himself. At least Euijin hadn’t also followed.

“Have a seat,” Hoyoung said. Minhyun sat on the wooden chair with his back straight and his knees crossed. The seat cushion was hard.

“I advised Her Majesty the Queen against allowing you to leave the castle. She insisted my investigation shouldn’t stifle you.”

“I’ve already made plans,” Minhyun said. “If I canceled them, it would reflect poorly on me.”

Hoyoung thinned his lips. “What you need to understand, Your Highness, is that you are in danger right now. Someone attacked you last night, and we don’t know who or why or what they want. This is the worst time to leave.”

“I doubt they meant to target me,” Minhyun said. “Why would they? Sunhwa is the Crown Princess, not me.”

“You can’t guess at someone’s motives and assume you are safe enough to leave on your own.”

“I won’t cancel the events. No one is after me. It’s more important you keep the castle safe and figure out how someone broke in.”

“Right.” At least Hoyoung could understand when a conversation was over. He grabbed a pen from a holder on his desk and flipped a notebook open. “In that case, will you tell me what happened yesterday? Anything you remember.”

Minhyun repeated the story as best he could. Hoyoung scrawled down a couple notes, though Minhyun didn’t think he said anything he hadn’t the night before. As Hoyoung finished, he stared down at his paper, as though he could see the entire picture in the couple lines of scrawled handwriting. Minhyun strained his eyes and caught the word ‘magic’ but could read nothing else.

“Is that all?” Minhyun asked, and he stood. No matter how Hoyoung answered, Minhyun was done here. 

“Go to the main entrance,” he said, and the force had drained from his voice. Maybe he’d accepted that he couldn’t control Minhyun. “Euijin will meet you there.”

Minhyun pushed his chair in before he left, but Hoyoung spoke again, before he finished crossing the threshold.

“Your mother,” he started, and the inappropriateness of addressing the Queen as such struck Minhyun silent. He turned slowly, hand still on the doorknob. “Wants me to keep you safe. And I get it—I’m a parent too—but it will only work if you keep yourself safe, too.”

The chill of the hallway crept across Minhyun's back. Hoyoung seemed to want something from Minhyun, and Minhyun wondered again how differently he’d feel about the detective were there a real threat lurking out there. At the very least, Minhyun believed Hoyoung would do his best to keep the royal family safe.

“I’ll do that,” Minhyun said. “I’m always careful.”

The trip to the lobby was only a short hallway and a right turn away. As he moved, the bare walls seemed to shrink and grow, their dimensions fluid like an optical illusion. Minhyun was glad to be rid of the space; it hurt his head.

Euijin was waiting for him, arms crossed like this was the last thing she wanted to be doing. She dropped the position as soon as she spotted Minhyun.

“Let’s go,” was all Minhyun said, and she led him down another hallway.

This new hallway had the same illusion effect, but rather than the occasional office, it housed doors that led to interrogation rooms and holding areas.

This was it. Minhyun would take Jonghyun for food once they got out. No matter what they fed him here, Minhyun was certain he’d be hungry.

“Will you talk to him about answering our questions?” Euijin asked.

“What are they?” Minhyun’s voice didn’t fit in the stillness of the hall.

“His name; what he saw that night. Things like that; it’s nothing complicated,” Euijin said. “Oh, and if he’s magical, but that one's just protocol.”

“And then he goes?” Minhyun asked.

“Yes.”

“I’ll ask him them,” Minhyun said. “But if he doesn’t want to answer, I won’t force him.”

The window to the interrogation room was small, but it gave Minhyun his first look at Jonghyun. He was slouched over, and one of his wrists was cuffed to the table. The dirty window stole most of the detail away, but Minhyun still tried to make out more through the haziness.

Jonghyun was alive. Jonghyun was in his sight again. This time, when Jonghyun had disappeared, Minhyun had followed the trail and hadn’t lost him. Minhyun would get him out.

Euijin punched in the code and opened the door. Minhyun wasted no time in entering. The bleak room was small and mostly bare. It had a table with two chairs and a camera in its upper corner.

The gray walls gave the room a cell-like appearance, in a way that sucked the hope from the air. It was a bad place. Minhyun forced himself not to look back at the door as it thudded shut behind him. The sound was horribly final. 

Jonghyun barely looked up with the sound of the door. His eyes were nearly shut, but he was too tense to be asleep.

It was clear he’d been arrested from his bed—Jonghyun had an old shirt of Minhyun’s on, and a pair of sweats with the knot tied tight enough to keep them on Jonghyun’s hips.

“Jonghyun,” Minhyun said, and his voice came out low. “Hey, are you okay? They’re going to let you go, I promise.”

That got Jonghyun’s attention, and though he said nothing, he straightened in his seat. He looked at Minhyun like he believed in his promises.

“They want you to answer a couple questions.” Minhyun ignored how Jonghyun was shaking his head. “They’ll let you go right after.”

But Jonghyun only shook his head more frantically. That was enough for Minhyun. He’d asked Jonghyun, and that was all Minhyun had agreed to do. The rest was the station’s problem.

Jonghyun raised his free hand. It was covered in dried blood.

“What happened?” Minhyun reached out for it, but Jonghyun waved him away, hardly stopping short of swatting Minhyun’s hand with his injury. Something in his knuckles flashed in the light—or maybe Minhyun had imagined it. 

There was an odd watch-like band with a screen on Jonghyun’s wrist. Minhyun was certain it wasn’t his. Before he could ask about it, Jonghyun made that hand into a fist with his thumb poking out from between his index and middle fingers. He shook it, then shook it again when Minhyun only stared.

“A bathroom?” Minhyun asked. He tilted his head. “Did I—Am I right? Have they not let you go to the bathroom?”

Jonghyun nodded. What the fuck.

Minhyun stood, so quickly his chair scraped against the floor. As he left, he didn’t dare let the door close behind him. Officer Hong was waiting outside.

“He needs to use the bathroom,” Minhyun said. “Now.”

Euijin craned her neck like she wanted to see around Minhyun. “Has he answered the questions?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Minhyun said. “Now,” he repeated, this time making it clear it was an order.

That seemed to hit her hard. “Of course,” she said. “Just—just wait outside, Your Highness.”

Minhyun nodded and crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall. She entered the room and led Jonghyun from it a minute later. They disappeared further down the hallway, and for a pause, Minhyun was tempted to follow, no matter how unnecessary.

Something was wrong about this. Something didn’t add up. They had told him it was a mistake to arrest Jonghyun, but they’d ignored his basic needs. Minhyun understood by now how Jonghyun worked. For him to use Minhyun as an out like that—he must have been desperate.

If they hadn’t let Jonghyun use the bathroom, then they certainly hadn’t given him food and likely not water either. Clearly, he hadn’t had medical treatment. It must have hurt like hell to sign with his injured hand.

When they returned, Jonghyun was red-faced. He kept his eyes on the ground, still as silent as before.

Minhyun blocked the door before Euijin could take Jonghyun back there and handcuff him to that table again. “He needs to go to the hospital,” Minhyun said. “Have you seen his hand? Why wasn’t that treated?”

From the way Euijin looked at it, it seemed she hadn't seen the injury. Jonghyun had that hand curled into his chest. Whatever was in his knuckles still caught the light. It was a piece of glass or something, Minhyun couldn’t tell. The watch-like band glared at them, silver and obvious. Jonghyun stood like the metal would burn him if he let it touch him anywhere else.

"Oh," Euijin said. "Did you inform the officers who--?" She seemed to realize how pointless it was to ask Jonghyun anything midway through the conversation. "I apologize, Your Highness. I wasn't aware he was injured." 

"How weren't you?" Minhyun demanded. "His hand was dripping blood." 

"I haven't--this is my first time seeing him," Euijin said. She couldn't seem to look away from the injury. Jonghyun kept it tilted and close, like he wanted to hide it. "This--it must have been oversight. He was supposed to answer the questions and go hours ago. The officer assigned must not have planned for...complications." 

“That doesn’t matter.” Minhyun was so angry he was shaking. He didn't care whether Euijin was directly involved or not. “You don’t ignore someone’s needs for information. Especially not someone arrested wrongly. The only reason you held him here so long was to save your reputation and mistreating him doesn’t reflect well on you. He’s going to the hospital, right now.”

“I need permission from—”

“No. You don’t need anyone’s permission to follow my orders.”

“Authorizing this is outside my—”

“Are you refusing to do what I tell you?”

“Of course not, Your Highness,” Euijin said, and finally, the finality in Minhyun’s tone seemed to strike her. “I’ll call the hospital now.”

“I will drive him there.”

“He needs to have an officer with him. And a secure room.”

“For three questions and a mistaken arrest?”

“He’s been noncompliant, and I do not have the authority to release him,” Euijin said. "I--I need to get my superior, at least."

Whoever Euijin's superior was--and Minhyun had a sneaking suspicion he'd talked to him only a few minutes ago--they weren’t going to let Jonghyun go. For some reason, they’d lied to Minhyun--and perhaps Euijin too, unless she was a good actor. Either Jonghyun was a suspect, or the questions were more important than Minhyun was led to believe. It seemed to all be above Euijin's pay grade, too, and Minhyun would rather deal with her than someone with more control over the situation.

Minhyun didn’t have time for this. Jonghyun was hurt, and Minhyun couldn’t go around and around playing some game no one would tell him about. Something was happening here, and the only person who seemed to understand it that Minhyun trusted was Jonghyun.

Even when alone with Minhyun, he hadn’t said anything aloud. For as quiet as Jonghyun had been, he’d had no problems speaking with Minhyun previously.

“Will you sign the answers?” Minhyun asked him. “Is speaking the problem?”

Jonghyun’s eyes slid over to Euijin.

“She wants to know your name, what you saw last night, and if you’re magical,” Minhyun said. “That’s all, right?” He addressed her. She confirmed that that was all.

Jonghyun nodded slowly. Minhyun smiled.

“Great,” he said. “Is that acceptable?”

“There’s no reason he can’t say them aloud,” Euijin said, but her voice was uncertain.

“Clearly, there is. You’ve asked him to communicate with you in a way he’s incapable of. Do you treat all innocent people like this here?”

She motioned for Minhyun to go ahead and ask the questions. 

“What’s your name?” he asked. He wasn’t exactly certain whether Jonghyun would refuse to tell them or not, but Jonghyun began signing letters. It was distinctly different from his signed name, the unique motion he’d come up with a decade ago, as individualized and personal as a nickname.

Minhyun nearly missed the first letter because of it. He hadn’t known what to expect, but he hadn’t been prepared for Jonghyun to ask him to lie. Maybe he should’ve been.

“Lee Geunsoo,” Minhyun said and tried not to think too hard about how he was directly lying to the law enforcement of his own country. Jonghyun had a good reason, and Minhyun knew he was innocent. All Minhyun was doing was ensuring their safety.

“Did you see anything suspicious last night?” Minhyun asked.

“No,” Jonghyun signed. “I was in my room.” He had to spell ‘room’ out with letters, rather than using the actual sign.

Minhyun repeated it aloud.

“Are you magical?” he asked Jonghyun, and this time he was prepared for the lie. “No,” he relayed, without bothering to look back at Euijin.

Minhyun reached for Jonghyun’s hand, and Jonghyun didn’t resist. It was the injured one, and Minhyun held it carefully. 

A shard of mirror too small to reflect an entire picture of anything pointed out from the torn, swollen skin. So Jonghyun had been injured by the broken mirror Minhyun had found in his room. He’d find out how later. For now, Minhyun tried to figure out what the strange watch-like device on Jonghyun’s wrist did.

There was a line across it, entirely flat. Other than that, the screen was blank.

“Take this off him,” he ordered. “We need to get to the hospital.”

Jonghyun offered Euijin his wrist, and that told Minhyun more than anything about how much he wanted it off. She pressed a button on the side of it, and the screen went dark. The line between Jonghyun’s eyebrows disappeared along with its display.

“What does that do, anyway?” Minhyun asked.

“It’s like a lie detector,” Euijin said. She needed both hands to remove the watch—by design, it was impossible for the person wearing it to remove it.

Jonghyun’s good hand wrapped around his now free wrist, and he almost hugged it to his body. No wonder he’d been afraid. Minhyun had just helped Jonghyun lie on at least two of the three questions. Good thing Jonghyun had recognized it—though that brought its own list of questions. Had he had something like that on before?

“You’ll remove this arrest from his records?” Minhyun asked, and as soon as Euijin confirmed she would, he led Jonghyun to the lobby, then outside to the parking lot. The sun had dipped behind the horizon, and the last lingering echoes of daylight were quickly fading.

Minhyun opened the car door for Jonghyun, whether to save him from doing everything one-handed or because Minhyun wanted to watch him get inside, Minhyun didn’t know. He closed the passenger door, and then got inside the car himself.

If Minhyun was right, Jonghyun should be fine with speaking now, but a heavy silence hung over them.

Minhyun shouldn’t press Jonghyun for answers so soon after what had clearly been a horrific experience for him. Or maybe Minhyun just didn’t know what to say. Either their crime department treated innocent people like shit, or something more complicated than Minhyun knew had happened.

Finally, Minhyun couldn’t stand the growing tension any longer.

“How’s your hand?” he asked. For a second, he expected to not get an answer.

“It hurts, but it’s not awful,” Jonghyun said. His voice was hoarse, but he didn’t bother to clear his throat.

“What was that thing? On your wrist?”

“It measures magic.”

So Euijin hadn’t entirely told the truth--or she hadn't known it. Minhyun supposed it was a lie detector of sorts, but not in the way she’d led Minhyun to believe.

“Why did they put it on you?”

Jonghyun looked at him, and Minhyun held the wheel even tighter. He looked so tired, and yet seemed to understand what happened so much better than Minhyun.

“They thought I tried to kill you,” Jonghyun said.

"But you didn't." 

Jonghyun barely nodded back. He was fading fast. Minhyun should let him sleep. They still had a ways until the hospital, and Minhyun refused to put his need for information above Jonghyun's health. They could talk later.

But Minhyun did have one final question he wanted Jonghyun to answer first, because otherwise, Minhyun would only torture himself with it.

“If you had spoken aloud, would that thing have gone off?”

“Yes." 

That only gave Minhyun a million more questions, but they would have to wait. Jonghyun had closed his eyes.

“You should sleep,” Minhyun said, and Jonghyun rewarded him with a weak but grateful smile. Minhyun was just glad Jonghyun was in this car with him and no longer handcuffed to a table.

Without Jonghyun to focus on and only the well-lit highway ahead, Minhyun struggled to distract himself from the odd pressure built up in his chest. It had been a long, long day. He had a lot to think about.

Finally, Minhyun rolled his shoulders a couple times, in an attempt to calm down, and started to sing under his breath. The corners of Jonghyun’s lips turned upward at the sound, and Minhyun raised his voice.

It didn’t take long for Jonghyun to fall asleep, but the ants continued crawling under Minhyun’s skin regardless of how much he sang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man 5 billion things happened in this chapter!! I hope you guys made it through and enjoyed it!! as always i appreciate all comments, short and long, and thanks for reading!


	8. When He Speaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know,” Jonghyun said, finally. “I think one day you’ll have to talk about magic. Like, really talk about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for some blood!!

TEN YEARS AGO

The chain links chill Minhyun’s hands, but he tightens his fingers until the thin metal lines dig into his palms anyway. When he tilts his chin up, the fence rises straight into the sky, so it borders the leaves silhouetted by the white early spring sun.

“I can’t do it,” he says.

“It’s easy.” Jonghyun speaks down to him, but only because he’s suspended in air. The fence creaks and the chain links tremble under his weight. Red powder rust trails down from under his shoes like flurries of snow. “There’s no reason you can’t get over it.”

“For you, maybe.” Minhyun’s voice comes out peevish. Jonghyun’s semi-arboreal, and Minhyun’s firmly on the ground.

“Here, just watch me.” He takes one hand off the fence and has the audacity to wave.

“I’ve watched you a billion times.”

The fence to the woodlot’s been locked since before day one. It’s rusty and gross and the first time Minhyun saw it, he’d been shocked when Jonghyun shook it with one hand, then clambered over the top a minute later.

 _‘We’re not allowed in there,’_ Minhyun had said. The sign was posted right on the fence: NO TRESPASSING.

 _‘Who’s gonna catch us?’_ Minki had countered. _‘It doesn’t look like anyone’s been here in years.'_ He, too, made it over the fence, though it had seemed like sheer willpower carried him over. Whatever it was, it’s something Minhyun still doesn’t possess. And because Aaron hates heights, he never even tries to lob himself over.

Eventually, they figured out that if Dongho and Jonghyun pull at the bottom of the fence, they could raise it just high enough for Minhyun and Aaron to fit under. It’s more than good enough for Aaron.

It isn’t for Minhyun. And even though Minki and Dongho don’t get it—Minki starts going under the bottom too, and Dongho seems to dread climbing the fence even though he can—Jonghyun does.

‘ _It’s the experience,_ ’ he insists, and it’s the thrill of the experience that leads him to convince Minhyun to try again. Just the two of them.

That’s why they’re both out here tonight. But then again, from the way Minhyun’s heart flutters in his chest, all exhilarated even though he’s firmly on the ground, maybe there is another reason, too.

When Minhyun doesn’t hop on the fence, Jonghyun hops down. Leftover dead leaves crinkle under his shoes, and his face is flushed from the slight chill.

“Is it the barbed wire?” he asks. “Because it’s fine. It’s broken.”

“Yeah because that’s not scary at all.”

There should be three rows of thin wire topping the fence, but overgrown vines poured over the top of the fence a few meters over. They’d weighed the wires down, and finally the top two had broken. Only the final lowest line persisted.

“Here, I’ll show you. It’s easy.”

Jonghyun’s up the fence half a second later. He swings a leg over the top, then the other. One hand grasps the top fence post, and the second rests on the barbed wire, so he’s aware of where the danger is.

It’s when his second foot searches for a hold that everything goes wrong. Jonghyun settles his weight down before his foot has fully located the support, and he slips. The hand on the wire clamps down, then flies open. He loses his grip.

His arms spiral out, and Jonghyun smashes into the ground.

Minhyun lunges to the fence. He entwines his fingers with it and calls out Jonghyun’s name. Jonghyun lays still in the sunlight, a haphazard pile of limbs and muddied dark fabric.

Minhyun looks through the fence, then up it, then looks through it again. He needs to get across, but he can’t lift the bottom alone. Should he climb it? He _can’t_ climb it. The cold fence stings Minhyun’s fingers.

“Jonghyun!” he yells, like the fence is also a sound barrier.

Jonghyun lifts his head and rolls to his knees. A dead leaf sticks to his shoulder.

“I’m okay,” he says first. He sits on his heels and flips his hand palm-up. The blood pools in the creases of his hand and runs over his wrist. Minhyun says Jonghyun’s name a third time when Jonghyun only stares as though transfixed by the way the red drips onto the leaves below.

Minhyun’s voice is barely a rasp, but it still startles Jonghyun. He curls his fingers and grimaces at Minhyun.

“Ow,” he says. “That hurt.” He says it like it’s a surprise. Like, _oh_ , a two-meter tumble and a face full of dirt and a hand wrapped around barbed wire hurt. _Never would have guessed._

“Are you okay?” Minhyun asks. “I’ll get you out. You need to go to the hospital.”

Jonghyun laughs, like it’s some kind of joke. Except no, the laugh is too shaky to be humor. It’s a release, of fear, of tension. Minhyun doesn’t know. He wants to be closer to Jonghyun. The wire fence digs into Minhyun’s skin, but it doesn’t break it.

Jonghyun wipes the blood onto a leaf, or tries to. It smears, and more blood pools in his hand. He stands up and returns to the fence, his hurt hand curled to his chest, far enough away only for the blood to drip onto the ground and not his clothes.

“Stand back,” Jonghyun says.

“You can’t. You’re hurt.”

“How else will I get out?” He tightens both hands into the chain-links, hands only slightly lower than Minhyun’s. The blood follows the metal lines before it drips off and disappears into the leaf litter.

Minhyun looks at the top of the fence, but even if he could climb it, he can’t get Jonghyun over. There’s nothing else to do. He steps back, and Jonghyun’s up the fence and swinging over the top seconds later. He lands in front of Minhyun, and already Minhyun reaches for Jonghyun’s hand.

“You’ll just get blood on yourself.” Jonghyun pulls it away.

“We need to go to the hospital,” Minhyun says again. “You need—what if you need stiches?”

Jonghyun looks at his hand again. “Do you have a tissue or something? I think that’s all I need.”

Minhyun does. He unzips his backpack with shaky hands and pulls out several of them. Jonghyun presses one against his palm and holds it there. The white rapidly turns red, but Jonghyun only folds it again and keeps it tight under his thumb.

“We need to go to the hospital,” Minhyun says.

“No, it’s fine,” Jonghyun says. “See?” The white tissue slowly reddens. 

PRESENT TIME

It wasn’t like Minhyun had ever forgotten all the things they’d gotten up to as kids, but he’d pushed the memories to the edges of his mind. They’d always flooded him at the worst of times, especially when he was back at the castle. It was hard to sit in his childhood bedroom and not see his childhood.

Now in the hospital, cold fluorescent lights glaring off the glossy-covered gossip magazine in his lap, Minhyun couldn’t run from them anymore.

It was easy to run these memories through his head. It was less easy to look at what he knew and look at what he didn’t and somehow figure out what it all meant.

He hadn’t thought about the forest in a long, long time. Not until when they’d arrived here, and Jonghyun had suggested it wasn’t worth the wait at the hospital because he could handle the wound himself. Minhyun had snapped out a _‘No!’_ before Jonghyun finished speaking.

After that they hadn’t spoken much, and it was a relief, really. Minhyun struggled to forget that Jonghyun's magic happened when he spoke. 

In the hospital, Minhyun quickly ran out of distractions to keep him from trying to comprehend what that meant

If Minhyun believed Jonghyun, it meant his understanding of magic was woefully inaccurate. It meant the technology everyone relied on for magical detection was just as off-kilter as Minhyun himself, because they’d had Jonghyun in a cell, with a device meant to measure magic, and he’d convinced them he was nonmagical with only a little help.

(Minhyun would think about what exactly it meant that he’d lied to the police force of his own damn country later.)

Minhyun had more signs to go off of than Jonghyun's word alone. Dongho had said Minki could literally heal people, and while Minhyun had denied it at the time, lies could only take someone so far. If Minki saved lives—if _doctors_ trusted him—there was more to this story.

More to his magic.

That left Minhyun with a question he couldn’t escape, not after the nurses took Jonghyun back, and Minhyun sat alone in the plastic-y chair and flipped unseeingly through last month’s celebrity drama.

What could magic do?

And what had Jonghyun’s magic already done?

In a way, Jonghyun's type of magic was a relief. He had acted so strangely and spoken so little, and Minhyun had had no answers besides that Jonghyun maybe regretted returning or regretted reconnecting with Minhyun.

Now, for the first time ever, magic cleared things up. It wasn’t Minhyun’s fault. He had been so terrified to search through himself and figure out what Jonghyun saw that made him irredeemable, but it was really Jonghyun after all.

Minhyun had underestimated how much Jonghyun had changed when he'd first come back.

Earlier, they’d given him a few forms to complete, and Jonghyun had lied on damn near every field he could. His fake name was, once again, Lee Geunsoo, and he put a phone number and an address and an email—everything you’d expect from a patient in the emergency room. Minhyun hoped that maybe some of it was real, but Jonghyun responded to ‘Lee Geunsoo’ like it was the name he’d been born with, and Minhyun realized it was more likely that this wasn’t Jonghyun’s first time using fake information.

Minhyun had hated it, but he’d said nothing. Jonghyun was a survivor. He was the kid who’d had blood all over his hands and climbed the fence anyway. For someone dealt as shitty of a hand as Jonghyun had been, there were some parts of surviving that weren’t pretty.

Minhyun wouldn’t condemn Jonghyun without the full story. If Jonghyun was using a fake name, it was because he needed one. At least, Minhyun tried to convince himself of that.

And so the nurses had finally taken Jonghyun back, and here Minhyun was. Waiting once again. Hospitals really were places of perpetual waiting, and the worst places to rest.

Minhyun forced himself to his feet. His head buzzed, the colors of the room suppressed and grayish in a way that Minhyun couldn’t tell whether the cold lights were playing tricks or if it was his eyes. In any case, it was time for him to do something other than stare blankly at pages covered in text and pictures he barely noticed.

Minhyun had promised to call Minki once he rescued Jonghyun anyway.

The walk to a quiet corner took only a minute or two, but it went a long ways to convince Minhyun he’d need sleep soon. He leaned against the white drywall and held his phone to his ear.

It rang once, then twice, and a third, fourth, and fifth. Finally, on the sixth ring, Minhyun was greeted with a rough, groggy “hello?”

“Aaron?”

“Minhyun? Did something happen?” With each word, he seemed to wake more fully. By the end, he sounded alert. Minhyun wondered if he’d meant to answer Minki’s phone or if he’d just wanted to shut the damn thing up. Minhyun should have checked the time before he called.

“No,” Minhyun said. “Well, yes. Jonghyun’s out of—of, you know. He hurt his hand, so we’re at the doctor’s, but he should be out soon and—"

“Whoa, Minhyun,” Aaron said, and Minhyun realized how fast he’d been talking. “Hold up. Are you okay?”

“What? Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sound exhausted. Have you slept at all?”

“I—no,” Minhyun said. Now he really didn’t dare look at the time. “Is it late?”

Aaron did a concerned half-laugh. “It’s the middle of the night.”

Minhyun groaned and tilted his head back so it rested against the drywall. He let his eyes close.

“I wasn’t thinking,” he said. “I should have waited ‘till morning.”

“No, I’m glad you called. This is important,” Aaron said. “Do you have somewhere to stay?”

Well, yeah, of course they did. Except—dammit. Minhyun couldn’t take Jonghyun back to the castle, could he? He hadn’t been thinking.

“I’ll figure it out,” Minhyun said. The closest thing Minhyun had to a home was in Busan, not that he spent too much time there either, with all his traveling. It was probably dusty as all hell by now. Ditto with the nearby safehouses—which also had security cameras Minhyun could only maybe turn off. Maybe Minhyun could get him a hotel room?

“Come here,” Aaron said. “You and Jonghyun can stay with Minki and me. You for tonight, and Jonghyun for longer, if he needs.”

“Minki would hate that.”

“He’s not as angry as he seems. You know him.”

“Last I knew him, we were all kids.”

“He hasn’t changed much.” Aaron’s voice was very fond. “Or, well, that’s a lie. He still wants the best for everyone though.”

Minki had always wanted that, more than anything, even if his ways of going about it were some of the least subtle messes Minhyun had ever witnessed.

“I’ll bring Jonghyun there,” Minhyun said. “But there’s no reason for me to stay.”

“It would be a forty-plus-minute drive from our place to yours. There’s no reason for you to drive that tonight. Just stay.”

“Fine,” he said. “For a night. What’s your address?”

“I could pick you up?”

“It’s fine,” Minhyun said, but he liked that Aaron offered. “I’ll need my car anyway.”

Aaron didn’t try to argue on that front. He read his address off, and Minhyun put it in his phone right away. Conversation lulled after that. Minhyun wondered if he’d ruined it.

“Aaron?” he asked.

“Yeah, Minhyun-ah?”

Somehow it was the endearment that made Minhyun realize he’d let some vulnerability into his voice. Ugh. This wasn’t a path he wanted to go down when Jonghyun would be out soon.

“Nothing,” Minhyun mumbled. “Thank you for letting us stay.”

“Take care of yourself, Min,” Aaron said. “See you soon. Call me if you need anything.”

It took Minhyun a while to return to the waiting room, but the wait was short once he did.

Jonghyun almost smiled at Minhyun, but he looked like shit. His hand had a gauze bandage wrapped around it. Minhyun wasn’t too surprised they’d had a nurse walk him out.

“You’re done?” Minhyun asked, doing his best to squash his instinct to take Jonghyun’s hand and inspect it, like they might not have done a good enough job. “It’s okay?” He addressed the nurse but Jonghyun answered.

“It’s okay,” Jonghyun said. “I can’t drive or anything for a bit. Painkillers, yeah?”

The nurse was staring. Minhyun smiled and thanked her.

“You’re—you’re welcome, your highness.” She said, and Minhyun’s smile grew a bit tighter. He waited until she left to speak more with Jonghyun, but to Minhyun’s surprise, Jonghyun began the conversation before he could.

“She just wanted to see you herself,” he grumbled. “She acted like she didn’t believe me that you were my person here, but I know she just wanted to see you.”

With the grumbling and the frown and the messy hair, Jonghyun made a disgruntled image. Minhyun caught himself thinking it was almost cute, then chastised himself. This wasn’t the time for thoughts like that. This was the time for Minhyun to demand that Jonghyun explain to him exactly what his magic did.

He was oddly hesitant. Or perhaps understandably hesitant. Minhyun was too tired to decide.

“At least you’re out now,” he said. “Are you ready? Aaron said we could stay with him tonight.”

“Hyung said that?”

“Yeah, hopefully Minki won’t say too much about me being there, but at least…” Minhyun trailed off. Jonghyun had smiled at the mention of Minki, and now Minhyun remembered he hadn’t yet seen them. Somehow they’d re-entered Minhyun’s life before Jonghyun’s, no matter that he had brought them back together in the first place.

“Anyway,” Minhyun stuttered out. He couldn’t complain about Minki in the face of Jonghyun’s excitement. “I’ve got the address. Let’s go?”

Jonghyun led the way to the doors, but Minhyun was the one who remembered where he had parked. Minhyun got in and started his GPS, then passed the phone to Jonghyun so he could navigate.

Instead of reading the directions, Jonghyun switched the GPS settings around so a woman’s voice read them aloud. Was that because of his magic? Or because Jonghyun wanted to nap?

Minhyun had to demand Jonghyun explain it to him. Otherwise Jonghyun would keep handing him handfuls of mismatched puzzle pieces and never stop to help Minhyun put them all together.

It took about five minutes for Minhyun to gather the courage to ask.

“Jonghyun?” he asked but didn’t wait for Jonghyun to acknowledge it. “They knew who you were at the jail, didn’t they?”

Minhyun kept his eyes on the road so he didn’t see how Jonghyun reacted to the question. Jonghyun paused before he spoke, just like always. Was he using magic?

“They had a few guesses.”

“Were they right?”

“Probably not,” Jonghyun said. “I doubt they’ve ever heard my name before.”

So Jonghyun wasn’t some known criminal or something. It said a lot that that comforted Minhyun.

“Why did they want you to speak so badly then?”

He dared a look at Jonghyun, during the pause before he spoke. The red light’s glow draped over his face. Then red became green, and Minhyun moved forward.

“I don’t know,” Jonghyun admitted. “A lucky guess? Or they wanted to detain me anyway, and that was an easy excuse? It might’ve just been bad luck.”

“You don’t think they knew about your…magic.”

Now Jonghyun really hesitated, but finally, he said, “I guess it’s possible. But magic like mine isn’t super common. The girl really thought I was nonmagical.”

Minhyun digested that, then disregarded it. Jonghyun was still hiding things, and Minhyun wasn’t leaving this conversation without some of his secrets in the air between them.

“Will you tell me what’s going on now?” Minhyun asked.

Another pause.

“It’s not easy for me to talk.”

“Why?” Minhyun wouldn’t let him off that easily. Not after everything that had happened.

“It’s complicated stuff—”

“No, that’s not what you said,” Minhyun said. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. The GPS told him to pull a left, and he nearly missed it. “You didn’t say it’s hard for you to talk about it. You said it’s hard for you to talk. Before you said that wristband-thing measures magic, and then you said it would’ve gone off if you spoke. Now you say it’s hard to speak. Tell me why.”

Jonghyun had been looking out the window, but now his gaze burned the side of Minhyun’s face. Even though the road was quiet and residential, Minhyun stared straight ahead like it required his complete concentration.

“Are you sure you want to know?” Jonghyun asked, finally.

“Of course I do,” Minhyun said. “I want to help you.”

“You haven’t mentioned magic once to me before this,” Jonghyun said. “Not everything from before or anything now.”

“I didn’t want to press you before you were ready.”

“I watched you say we should be proud of the magic ban.”

“Magic is dangerous,” Minhyun said, but it was weak. He turned right onto Aaron’s street. “It’s killed people.”

“If magic is dangerous you should have left me in jail. You know I’m magical.”

“Not—not all magic but some is. We have to be careful.” But Minhyun could see the holes in his own logic so clearly he had to continue. “It’s not like we don’t let magical people live here at all.”

“Do you even know what happens to a magical kid who’s caught? You don’t, do you.” It wasn’t really a question.

“There’s a school, to learn how to control magic.”

Jonghyun laughed, and it was ugly. Sardonic, even. “So you don’t know.”

“Then tell me,” Minhyun said. “And tell me why you’re not in the Registry while you’re at it.”

That was Minhyun’s ‘checkmate,’ but Jonghyun only scoffed and looked at the window, like a teenager. Like some rebellious kid who needed to listen for once.

Minhyun was tired, but he elected to loop around Aaron’s block rather than park the car. They needed to finish this.

“You looked me up.” Jonghyun’s voice was flat. “Instead of talking to me.”

“I could barely get you to say more than a couple sentences. Half the time you wouldn’t even answer.”

“So what?” Jonghyun asked. “All you said about magic being dangerous, and you found out I was hiding stuff, and what?”

“I haven’t had time to think about it,” Minhyun admitted. “That was last night.”

Jonghyun frowned. Whatever he’d been about to say, he didn’t say it. Minhyun got the feeling it had been some type of retort to whatever he’d expected Minhyun to say. It felt good that he’d done something Jonghyun didn’t expect.

“But you got me out,” Jonghyun said. “If you thought…”

“It doesn’t matter because you didn’t attack me.”

“You lied for me.”

“I guess I don’t think you’re dangerous,” Minhyun admitted. “But you do seem scared sometimes.”

“I’m not,” Jonghyun said. “Are you?”

“Should I be?”

“I think that’s why you haven’t made me tell you anything before this,” Jonghyun said. “I think you’d rather never talk about magic, even though you know if you aren’t careful it’ll kill you someday.”

Chills darted down Minhyun’s back. He shuddered.

“Did you just use magic on me?” Minhyun asked. 

Jonghyun didn’t answer. Minhyun had said the wrong thing.

He chose to drive around the block again. Who knows, maybe with enough circles he'd figure everything out.

“I’m going to show you what my magic does now,” Jonghyun warned.

“Show me?” Minhyun echoed. He didn’t like the sound of that. “Why can’t you tell me?”

“This is the only way,” Jonghyun said.

Minhyun readied himself. He slowed the car. “Should I—?”

“Pull over.”

Minhyun did, as soon as Jonghyun asked. But to his surprise, Jonghyun said nothing else.

“What?” Minhyun asked. He tried not to sound scared. Their car lingered awkwardly near the sidewalk. He hadn't chosen the most opportune place to pull over. The lights of the nearby buildings were mostly off, and the streetlights hit the ground like a giant interrogation room.

Jonghyun’s face was stuck in darkness, but his eyes caught even the most minimal of light.

“That’s what I can do,” he said softly.

“What are you talking about?”

“I still think you don’t really want to know because this will change things,” Jonghyun said. “I bet you would rather keep on pretending magical kids go to special schools and then have normal lives.”

“Stop trying to guess what I want to do and explain.”

“Fine,” Jonghyun said. Then, “open that for me.” He nodded towards the glove compartment, and Minhyun did. Even though it was nonsensical, even though it was inches away from Jonghyun and Minhyun had to stretch to do it. He didn’t even think about it.

A tube of anti-inflammatory cream tipped out and landed at Jonghyun’s feet. Neither of them moved to get it.

That was weird. Minhyun looked from the open glove box to Jonghyun’s face to out the windshield. He didn’t know why he hadn’t just pulled the car a few lengths further before pulling to the side. It would’ve been a much better spot.

“What did you do to me?” Minhyun's voice was quiet.

“I think you want to believe magic goes away somehow. If you try hard enough.” Jonghyun wasn’t even looking at him. “Because I think if you don’t believe that, you’ll know you’ll have to be aware of it constantly, or else you might do something awful.”

“What are you saying?”

“When I needed to get to the Memorial, I walked up to security and told them I was supposed to be there. And now, here, I don’t have to worry about you believing me, because I know you will.”

He was doing everything but saying exactly what he could do. But it was there, right in the words Jonghyun didn’t say. He worded things so carefully. He got into places he wasn’t supposed to.

Minhyun had been looking for something to finally make it all click, and this was it. 

"You can--" Minhyun's voice faltered, but he didn't have to finish. He knew what Jonghyun was saying. 

“Never do that to me again,” Minhyun said, but he couldn't find any other words. None of them sounded right. Jonghyun didn't say anything else. He sat there like he was waiting for something, and Minhyun had no idea what he wanted.

Minhyun’s car was still stopped where he’d first pulled over. He finished the loop and parked outside Aaron’s address. “Pick up what fell and bring it and the bandages in with you. Aaron’s probably waiting for us.”

“So you’re going to still run away? After all of that? You’re not even going to talk about it?”

“No,” Minhyun said. “I’m going to sleep, and we’ll talk about this tomorrow, after I have time to think about it.” If Minhyun had learned anything from the years he'd spent talking to people about their country, it was that nothing made things worse than overly quick reactions. It wasn't a bad thing to take time to think about it. 

“Do you wish you left me in the jail?”

“You were innocent,” Minhyun said. “This doesn’t change that.”

“How can’t it?” Jonghyun demanded. “I just told you my magic forces people to listen to what I say. Why aren’t you angry? Or scared? Why do you still trust me?”

“If you think I shouldn’t, tell me not to.”

Jonghyun’s mouth narrowed into a thin line, but he said nothing.

Minhyun reached for the car door handle, and still Jonghyun didn’t move.

"I don't want to mess this up by reacting the wrong way," Minhyun said quietly. "You're important to me, and I don't want you to leave again."

It was like the fight flooded out of Jonghyun. Minhyun's relief was so sharp it was damn near tangible. He didn't want to argue. 

“I thought you’d be angry,” Jonghyun admitted.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person, Jonghyun,” Minhyun said. “You’ve never been bad. And this isn't a thing you can control; I know that better than most people.”

“It’s been eight years,” Jonghyun said. “How do you know?”

“Not many people would be so careful wording everything.”

“Sometimes I don’t know why I am.”

“Yeah,” Minhyun said. “Yeah, I can imagine.” It would be a lot easier for Jonghyun to not care than to vet his words so carefully.

With that, Minhyun left the car, and Jonghyun joined him. He held his hurt hand near his chest.

“Can I check your hand inside?” Minhyun asked.

“They wrapped it an hour ago. Why don’t you clean the cut on your face instead?”

Minhyun raised his fingers like he needed to confirm the bandage was still there. He’d forgotten about it, after everything.

Jonghyun was right. It did need to be cleaned.

“Let’s go,” Minhyun said.

Minki and Aaron’s apartment complex was small, but that wasn’t surprising considering the area wasn’t extremely populated. On the outside, it was cracked white paint and bricks that stretched much further up than out, like someone had built it from clay only to take the top and pull.

Aaron met them in the lobby and ushered them to a rickety elevator. He asked Minhyun if he was okay, Minhyun answered, and then Jonghyun said a quiet, ‘hyung’ and got Aaron’s attention.

Once again, Minhyun was an outsider watching another reunion. Like with Dongho, Jonghyun didn’t speak much, but he hugged Aaron and told him he’d missed him. Aaron blinked faster then, and Jonghyun tucked his face into Aaron’s shoulder like a child.

Minhyun looked away to give them some guise of privacy, but how much could you do in an elevator? Finally, the doors opened, and Aaron led them to his door.

The apartment itself wasn’t awful, but it was tiny. Aaron warned them that Minki was already asleep, then pointed them towards two air mattresses, which took up nearly the entirety of their free floor space. They were already equipped with sheets, a pillow, and a thin blanket each. It was impressive they'd managed to fit them both.

Aaron also showed them the bathroom, then told them to get some sleep and that they’d all talk tomorrow. It seemed he and Minhyun had had the same idea there.

The bathroom was all tile, with a sink that could use a nice, thorough cleaning. There wasn’t a rug on the floor, and some water soaked into Minhyun’s socks.

“Do you normally carry around bandages?” Jonghyun asked. He set them on the counter.

“I didn’t want to ever be in a situation again where someone was hurt, and I couldn’t do anything.”

Minhyun didn’t know whether Jonghyun remembered that day as well as Minhyun, but Minhyun would never forget it.

Jonghyun smiled, and it was crooked but not bad. Minhyun felt like he’d just gotten a hard exam question correct.

“It’s the same hand,” Jonghyun said. “Just not the palm. I think I’m unlucky.” He flipped his hand palm-up, and Minhyun could see the scar on it, poking out from under the gauze.

“At least it’s your left hand.”

“And it’s not my face,” Jonghyun said. He moved closer to Minhyun, then reached up for Minhyun’s face.

“What are you…?”

“If you want, I’ll check your cut,” Jonghyun said. “I can see how bad it is.”

“It’s not bad.” Minhyun let Jonghyun touch him anyway, even though he wasn’t sure why Jonghyun wanted to. “Did the police do that?”

“My hand?” Jonghyun shook his head. His fingers were gentle and warm against Minhyun’s face. The bandage’s adhesive pulled at Minhyun’s skin.

“It was my fault,” Jonghyun admitted. He got the bandage off and tossed it in a small trashcan. “I felt—I just—that was a bad night for me.”

“Why?”

“I used magic on you,” Jonghyun said. Then, like that wasn’t heart-stopping, he went on, “I think you should leave this uncovered tonight. It’s not deep.”

Minhyun was struggling to figure out when Jonghyun used magic on him. For now, he let it go. He didn’t want to risk an argument now.

“How did you get this?” Jonghyun asked.

“I broke a window.”

“How?”

“I was upset. It got cold.”

A pause. Jonghyun rolled the bandages over in his hand.

“Very cold,” Minhyun clarified.

“You know,” Jonghyun said, finally. “I think one day you’ll have to talk about magic. Really talk about it.”

The words sunk in, and Minhyun knew this was where he stopped them. He couldn't do this tonight.

“Someday. But right now I’m going to bed, and you should too.”

Minhyun wished Aaron had offered them a change of clothes. Then again, his shirt was already rumpled and had a stain with an origin he didn't remember on it. How much worse could he make it?

Jonghyun still blocked the door. He didn’t move to let Minhyun out yet. Minhyun was drowning in all the words unsaid between them.

"I'm still happy you came back," Minhyun said. "No matter what. Things seem better with you around, even with all this." 

“Minhyun…” Jonghyun couldn’t seem to collect his words. This was far from the first time Minhyun had seen Jonghyun struggle, but it was different now. Minhyun knew why he couldn't speak freely. He let Jonghyun take his time. 

It seemed it was different for Jonghyun, too. Because instead of saying something half-baked or giving up and letting it go, he did something new.

Minhyun barely caught on with what was about to happen before Jonghyun had leaned into his arms.

The hug didn’t have the desperate quality of a hug between two people who regretted how long it had been since they’d last seen each other. Nor did it have the awkward quality of friends who had long ago fallen apart. It was intimate. Quiet.

Minhyun didn’t hold Jonghyun as tightly as he’d always promised himself he would, if Minhyun ever got him back, but that didn’t matter. 

“Good night,” Jonghyun whispered. He let go, and then he was gone.

And even though they still had a lot to talk about, Minhyun felt good. They’d gained an understanding tonight. They’d gone from nothing to talk about to everything, and for the first time, Minhyun knew something real about Jonghyun. Minhyun had somewhere to take off from.

As he stared at the door, his churning thoughts narrowed to one.

_Welcome back, Kim Jonghyun. Finally._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now im finally allowed to complain that jonghyun's dialogue is a bitch to write
> 
> i havent had time to answer comments on the last chapter yet but ill get to them soon and i greatly appreciate any comments on this chapter too!! im catching a plane like right now and wanted to get this up first haha


	9. The Notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Minhyun, you realize you’re bending a lot of laws to do this, right?”

Minhyun woke with a sore throat and the sense that he could’ve died overnight and wouldn’t have noticed. He rolled over, caught up in the warmth of the sheets below him and how inviting even the lumpy, blown up mattress was under him. 

The new position made it so he could see the other mattress. At once, all possibilities of extra sleep darted from Minhyun’s grasp. 

He rose up on his arm when it looked like all the mattress had was bunched baby blue sheets, and then dropped back down when he spotted dark hair poking out from them. Jonghyun had thrown his blanket off and curled in a ball under the sheets. 

Hushed voices came from the other room, but Minhyun ignored them in favor of entering the bathroom. He hadn’t brushed his teeth the night before, and his mouth was disgusting. Minhyun splashed his face a few times and elected to peek in the cabinet on the off chance for an extra toothbrush.

There were medical supplies—bandages, creams, even painkillers—filling the shelves, and under those was an entire bag of cheap new toothbrushes--certainly more than twenty, all in separate wrappers. Aaron and Minki must have a lot of guests? Hurt guests, apparently? Guests who forgot their toothbrushes? Minhyun took his pick and opened the cheap plastic wrapper.

He splashed some water on his face. Jonghyun had been right about the cut on Minhyun's face; he wouldn't need it bandaged again. What he needed was a change of clothes—and a shower. The day-old dirt scraped against his skin. 

A couple minutes later, Minhyun approached the voices, which were now less hushed. 

“This isn’t about us,” Minki was saying. “This is about them and how dangerous this could be.”

“Minhyun’s not about to rat anyone out.”

Minhyun winced. He didn’t like eavesdropping, but his curiosity pinned him to the door. Who was this about?

“It’s not Minhyun I’m worried about,” Minki said darkly. 

“Jonghyun is—” Aaron sighed. “We’ll figure it out.”

Minhyun's guilt overtook his curiosity. He rapped on the doorframe with his knuckles. "Am I interrupting?” he asked. 

“Asking that doesn’t make you interrupting any better,” Minki said. He crossed his arms, and Minhyun tried to placate him with a shrug. 

“I could hear you,” Minhyun said. “It was either interrupt or eavesdrop. What’s up with Jonghyun?” 

Minki scoffed and looked at Aaron to answer. 

Aaron hadn’t yet shaved, and he didn’t look well rested either. Minhyun could relate, though he at least had gotten a few decent hours—or maybe more. His phone had died over the night, and he had no idea what time it was. It could have been years since Minhyun was last awake. 

“We’re talking about where to go from here,” Aaron said. “With Jonghyun.”

“You said he could stay.” 

“I want to know what he’s playing at first,” Minki said.

“Jonghyun’s doing his best. Let him go at his pace.” Minhyun was surprised by how much he meant that. 

“Did he tell you about this?” Minki raised an envelope held between two of his fingers. From where he stood, Minhyun couldn’t read the words on it. There was an odd symbol on it, done messily in a suspiciously bright red color. 

“Where’d that come from? Is that...?”

“Ink,” Minki said. “Blood dries brown. It came for Jonghyun. Do you know what that means?” 

“What is that symbol?” He approached, but Minki wouldn’t hand the letter to him. 

“You should have seen it before—”

“Minki,” Aaron said softly. 

“It’s the symbol of a magical rebel group. Not behind the scenes enough to be a gang, ideological enough to call themselves 'Unifiers.'”

Minhyun looked more closely at it. The design was simple, three thin ovals with their bottoms overlapped, almost a star but not wide enough. Drawn with more precision, and it could have been a crude flower--though Minhyun doubted that was what they were going for. 

“What does it mean? Who are they unifying?”

"It means Jonghyun’s connected with a powerful group known for using violence to get what they want. Enough that they sent him a message.”

“They didn’t send it to him. You got it.” Minki had always been radical. It was easier to imagine him supporting domestic terrorists than Jonghyun.

“Our entire career is healing people,” Aaron said.

“You can’t be very good at it if you need all those bandages under your sink.” 

Silence. Minhyun tried to read Aaron, but didn't manage it. He wished he'd speak more. 

“We got this because they assumed we’d side with Jonghyun. We’d pass him the message, maybe read it, but we wouldn’t show it to you.”

“So let me see it.” 

Minki held it up higher. “You can see it like this. Everything inside is in code. We can’t understand it. You definitely can’t.”

“Then no harm in me seeing it then, is there?”

“Don’t make this more difficult, Minki," Aaron said. Minhyun watched him closely, even as Minki pulled a thin slip of paper from the envelope. He only looked away once the paper was in his hand. 

“T,” Minhyun read aloud. He flipped the paper over, but that was all it said. “Some code.”

"So what now?" Minki asked. He grabbed the note back and put it back in the envelope.

"About that?"

"For you. Are you planning on leaving?" 

"Oh, oh yeah. I have to. I'll stop by again later, though." Minhyun needed another chance to talk with Jonghyun. They'd gotten somewhere last night. Minhyun didn't want to lose that momentum, notes or no notes.

“If they knew Jonghyun was here, that means they likely followed you. It's dangerous," Aaron said. He still thought someone attacked Minhyun the other night. 

“They could also storm in here, by that logic,” Minhyun said. “Or more likely, would have done it last night.” The words came out shorter than he meant.

Aaron noticed. He raised a placating hand, like Minhyun needed that to control himself. "I'm just saying. You should call your security to escort you back.”

Aaron didn't have all the information. Minhyun wasn't going to take the time and explain it all.

“Can I use your shower?" Minhyun asked instead. "I can’t show up there like this.”

Minki tossed the envelope onto their kitchen counter. “I can loan you some clean clothes, too. You need them.”

“Thanks.” 

Minki led Minhyun past Jonghyun, who slept on, and into the master bedroom. He opened the closet and shoved some hangers around. Most of the shirts were brighter colors and more obvious patterns than anything Minhyun wore. “If you called at a reasonable hour, I would’ve given you our guest room," Minki said. He pulled out a shirt and held it up between his own line of sight and Minhyun's torso, then put it back into the closet. "We need to talk."

“Without Aaron?”

“Yeah because you have a problem with him, and you need to calm down a bit. You’ve got one with me, too, but not like that.” Minki grabbed a shirt out—simple but good quality, no big brand names, the kind of thing a prince could wear—and pressed the hanger toward Minhyun, who thanked him.

"If anything, Aaron's got a problem with me. I don't have one with him."

“It seems like you’ve got a problem with everyone,” Minki said. “Except Jonghyun. That’s a mistake.” 

“Because of the note?”

"I get it seems far-fetched, but it's been a long time, and people do a lot of things when they're desperate. Unifiers are good at remembering who owes them a debt."

"What kind of thing would they have done for him?" Minhyun asked. "So that he'd owe them?"

“Jonghyun's not in the National Registry. Not many people have the influence to pull an entry off like that.”

"You think that group took him off the Registry." 

Minhyun had confronted Jonghyun about that last night. He only realized now that Jonghyun had never given him an answer. Instead, he’d shown Minhyun the kind of thing his magic could do. Unless he'd meant that as an answer?

“You want a way to think Jonghyun’s not a bad person, without ignoring everything around you?” Minki asked. “If there’s anything Unifiers hate more than the people in power, it’s the magical people who don’t agree with them. Jonghyun wouldn't cross them willingly.”

“You’re scared of them.”

“They’ve reached out to Aaron before. I don't want them anywhere near him.”

“Right, he's your public relations guy. I forgot."

Minki shot Minhyun a look. He backed off with a mumbled apology.

“We agree on almost everything,” Minki said. “And you know how it is with politics: it’s the people who almost agree who argue the most.” He passed a pair of pants over to Minhyun.

“Thanks. I’ll go shower,” Minhyun said.

“Then what?”

“Go to the castle.”

“You can’t keep blindly trusting Jonghyun. If you decide he's worth it, have a reason that doesn't depend on how he acted when he was sixteen.”

Any answer Minhyun could have given Minki stuck in his throat. On his way out, Minki briefly rested his hand on Minhyun's shoulder. "It'll be okay," he said, and briefly, Minhyun even felt like it might.

Minhyun didn’t have time to dry his hair. He’d already blown his schedule—he'd woken at a ripe eleven A.M. when normally he'd be long on his way by then. Minhyun said a quick goodbye--or rather an uncertain 'see you later'--and sent a final look at Jonghyun, who still slept on. He needed the rest.

It was a relief to finally be alone. Minhyun needed to think about everything he'd found out. 

The thing Minki didn't know was that Jonghyun had another way of getting off the Registry. He’d said before that he’d used his magic to get into places he shouldn’t be allowed. It was feasible for him to have gotten his name off just by telling the right person to do it.

Feasible, but still a longshot. No matter the odds, though, Minhyun knew one thing. Jonghyun couldn't have returned solely to hurt Minhyun. 

They'd gotten somewhere last night, when they'd talked. Jonghyun had opened up, if only a couple hairline cracks. And if Jonghyun had wanted to hurt Minhyun, he'd had enough opportunities long before this. Hell, from what Minhyun knew about his magic, Jonghyun could have ended things almost as soon as they'd met.

Minhyun unlocked his car. He went to open the door but stopped with his hand still on the handle. A paper was placed under one of his windshield wipers. 

It wasn't a parking ticket. The crossed red ovals told Minhyun that. 

Unlike Jonghyun’s, Minhyun's note wasn’t written in any type of code.

Like Jonghyun’s the note was indecipherable to Minhyun. 

It was blank. 

What the hell did that mean?

A car went down the street, and Minhyun ducked his head. He didn’t want to be recognized here—and whoever had left the notes might still be around. 

Minhyun crumpled it up in his hand. He got in his car, and allowed himself three deep breaths before he pulled out into the street. If someone had wanted to scare him, they had succeeded. It was almost embarrassing how often Minhyun checked for cars tailing him on the way back to the castle.

Except for a red car that made two turns along with Minhyun, then peeled off before the highway, Minhyun didn’t even have a candidate. He passed the gates with a quick nod to the operator, then hurried inside. 

His study was still blocked off by police tape. Minhyun did his best to ignore it. The state of his bedroom made it clear he’d been out of sorts when he’d left. His bed wasn’t made, and a stack of papers had toppled from his desk. Minhyun corrected everything, and packed a suitcase as quickly as he could.

That was the easy part. Now for the rest. 

Minhyun knocked on Sunhwa’s door, but it was already the afternoon. Minhyun would have to track her down. 

He hadn't lost the ability to guess at his sister's tendencies. Minhyun found her within ten minutes. He politely excused her from a meeting with a few advisors, who took the interruption well. Sunhwa seemed more thankful that Minhyun was back than annoyed by his intrusion. 

At least, until she cornered him in an empty conference room. “Where’s your... friend?” she asked, her voice low. "Did you bring him back?"

A painting hung on the far side of the thin, rectangular room. It was a landscape painting of the Ulsanbawi. There were low-hanging clouds obscuring some of the rocks, which spiked out of the green mountainside. The sky was a pretty light blue. 

“Safe,” Minhyun said. “Not in danger of being prosecuted for existing.”

“So you sympathize with magic users now?” 

Minhyun made a face. “You know what I meant.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sunhwa said. “Detective Moon hasn’t gotten a single read of magic since your Jonghyun was arrested.”

Fuck. Of course he hadn’t. Minhyun hadn’t been here.

“I’m never going to bring Jonghyun back here,” Minhyun said. “Don’t worry about that.”

“I’m more worried that it seems like you’ve turned this into a him or us thing. And if it is, I need to know you’re choosing us.” Sunhwa was playing it tough--with Minhyun, of all people. They were a team. He almost snapped back, but then he took a second look at her. Sunhwa had a simple work outfit on, and her hair pulled in the same formal yet simple bun as always. Her makeup couldn't totally cover the lingering circles under her eyes. She was worried. Minhyun would be an asshole to add to it. 

“Of course I’m with you. I’m not running away with him or something. I’m going on the same trip that’s been planned for months. Mom approved it—on paper and to me.” 

Sunhwa waited, like Minhyun should add more. Faint amusement trailed through him. “I’m not going to keep telling you more, no matter how long you stare at me like that.”

Sunhwa smiled wryly. “I miss when that used to work.”

“I turned thirteen a long time ago.”

"You're giving yourself too much credit. It worked until you were sixteen."

Sunhwa spun one of the office chairs out from the table and sat on the arm of it. Minhyun remained in the corner near the door.

“Take a bodyguard with you,” Sunhwa said. “Someone who knows how to handle magic.”

Detective Moon had come close to figuring out Minhyun was magical just by being near him. Minhyun couldn’t travel with someone who knew how to 'handle magic.' Not when a single person discovering his secret spelled the end of him, and immeasurable problems for his family. 

“I’ve been traveling alone for years.”

“And I’m worried about you,” Sunhwa said. “I don’t get it. You like talking to people so much, but you hate being anything but alone.”

“It keeps me focused.”

“Bullshit, Minhyun. If anyone else tried this kind of stuff, I’d have them investigated for treason.”

“What the hell?” 

“But I know you're not. So that means I don’t understand anything,” Sunhwa said. “You were attacked, but you don’t seem afraid. And you brought someone magical here. Imagine if it was Mom who found out, Minhyun. What would she do?”

Minhyun pulled out his chair and matched how Sunhwa was sitting. He knew damn well what the Queen would do. Minhyun had long made his peace knowing that he would never truly be welcome here.

“I’ll compromise with you, Minhyun,” Sunhwa said. “I want you to check in with Detective Moon daily.”

“Moon is not my security detail. He’s heading the investigation for magical rebels.” Minhyun’s phone vibrated in his pocket, but he ignored it. Sunhwa required his full attention right now. 

“We had a corrupted officer in the police last year. Moon busted him--and possibly an assassination attempt. There's a reason we trust him.”

“Of who?” 

“We never found out. All we know was that the officer was connected with magical terrorists. That's when Mom brought Moon in.”

“And you never told me any of this?” Minhyun asked. “Sunhwa—”

“You’d been gone for almost four months when it happened. Any breaks you had around then you spent in Busan rather than here. Information was on a need-to-know basis, and you didn’t need to know.”

“We’re a team. If you need to know, then I do too.”

“If we’re a team, then act like it. Check in with Moon. Hell, take a driver with you. You can pick who.”

“I will,” Minhyun said. He'd check in with Moon, but the driver was pushing it, and Sunhwa knew that. “Is that all?”

“Yeah.”

Minhyun pushed his chair in and turned to the door. Right as he touched the handle, Sunhwa spoke again.

“Try to be home for Dad’s birthday this year. Don't make Mom and me go to the cemetery alone again.”

Minhyun tightened his hand on the brass handle. That was a low blow.

“I will." Their father’s birthday wasn’t until the winter, nearly half a year away. Sunhwa didn’t expect him to come back anytime soon. 

Minhyun would protest, but Sunhwa was right. No matter what happened, Minhyun would avoid coming back for as long as possible. 

It was too dangerous here now.

Minhyun had almost feared another note on his car when he reached it, but it was in a protected lot behind two different gates. No one who wanted to cause harm to Minhyun, his family, or his country could get past those. 

He surveyed the lot and the green lawn around him. Jonghyun never had been able to take Dongho up on his offer to tour the gardens. He’d never be able to come that close to the castle again, but maybe Dongho could visit Aaron and Minki. Minhyun was already bummed that he'd miss out on it.

He and Jonghyun both owed Dongho a thank you. He was the reason they’d learned how to sign so long ago.

Wait. Minhyun stopped, and for a second, he could have smacked himself—or maybe kissed Dongho. Jonghyun had signed at the police station, to sneak around their sensors. From how slow the signs had been, Minhyun could tell it had been a long while since Jonghyun had used it. 

Last night, Jonghyun had had a lot he wanted to say, and a lot of difficulty in doing so. It would take some time for Jonghyun to remember how to sign well—and likely take time for the rest of them, barring Dongho, to remember it too—but if Jonghyun could communicate non-verbally, it changed everything. 

Minhyun made a detour for Dongho’s apartment. It didn’t take Dongho long to come down to meet him. 

“Do you want to see Jonghyun again?” Minhyun asked.

“Are you okay? No one’s told us what happened, but we heard—”

“Not here,” Minhyun said. He hadn’t forgotten about the overly curious lobby clerk. “Once we’re driving.” 

He had to give Dongho credit, because he just went with it and followed Minhyun outside. When he went to speak outside, Minhyun shot him a warning look, but Dongho still spoke.

"Shit, your car's nice," he said. "I'd love to drive it sometime."

Minhyun shot him a disparaging look. He loved this car.

“So what happened?” Dongho asked, once they were inside the car. “And don’t tell me nothing. I heard someone was arrested.”

“Jonghyun was, but he’s out now. He’s staying with Aaron and Minki.”

“What? How?” 

The road stretched out in front of them—and the traffic stretched out just as far. Minhyun's phone vibrated again, this time incessantly. Someone was calling him more than once.

“Not now,” Minhyun said. “I need to ask you something.”

“I'll answer, if you explain everything later." 

“Will you re-teach us sign language? Jonghyun finds it easier to communicate that way.” 

“He didn’t use it with me before.”

“He doesn't remember much of it.” 

Minhyun didn’t want to doubt his friend, but this would make Jonghyun capable of explaining everything, even if it took longer than it should. Dongho could help them through the conversation. 

“Is Jonghyun okay?” Dongho asked. 

“He’s fine,” Minhyun said. “Dongho, can I ask you for advice?” 

“Sure, but if I answer another thing, then you've got to do another thing for me." 

"Name your price," Minhyun said. 

"Let me drive your car sometime." 

Minhyun rolled his eyes. "Deal." Give it a decade, then Dongho could drive it.

"Bad deal for you. I suck at advice." 

“What are you talking about? I went to you almost as much as I went to Aaron back then.” And Dongho made a lot more sense than Aaron these days. 

“That’s because you never wanted advice. You wanted someone to listen and call your dumb ideas dumb.”

“Dongho,” Minhyun said warningly. He hated stop-start traffic. It always made him short. To make it worse, someone was calling his phone, again. Minhyun feared it was his Mom.

“What?” 

“Is it a mistake to trust Jonghyun?” Minhyun asked. Fumes from the cars in front of him made the hot air itself waver. 

“He was one of our best friends."

“Yeah. I know.”

They didn’t talk too much after that. 

Halfway through, Minhyun caught sight of the crumpled note in one of the cupholders. It made the ride twice as long. 

“Why the fuck haven’t you been answering your phone?” Minki asked, even as he opened the door for Minhyun. He told one look at Dongho and looked up as though asking God himself for patience. “You're kidding, right?” 

Dongho smiled at him. “Good to see you too, Minki.”

That startled Minki out of his own annoyance. Dongho’s smile was good for stuff like that. 

“How’s your shoulder?” Minki asked. He stepped closer and brushed his fingers against Dongho’s shoulder. Minki smiled, and Dongho confirmed it didn’t bother him anymore. 

Minhyun stepped past Minki into his and Aaron’s apartment. Aaron stopped almost directly inside, only slightly out of sight from the doorway. 

“Where’s Jonghyun?” Minhyun asked. “We need to all talk.” He would leave it to Jonghyun to explain his magic to them. Hopefully with Dongho it would be easier for him. 

“He's...gone," Aaron said. “I’m sorry, Minhyun.”

“What do you mean ‘gone?’ Gone where?” 

“He nabbed my keys when we weren’t looking,” Aaron said. “Took my car.” His forehead had a dozen creases across it. 

“No,” Minhyun said. “He wouldn’t do that. We talked last night.” 

Jonghyun had finally revealed some of the secrets he’d taken away with him so long ago. Minhyun had thought that was progress.

“He took one look at the note and took off,” Minki said. He and Dongho came in behind Minhyun. The apartment was crowded with all of them.

“You let him see it? Did he know what it meant?”

“Obviously,” Minki said, just as Dongho asked, “what note?” Minhyun let Minki and Aaron catch Dongho up. They’d already deflated the mattresses Jonghyun and Minhyun slept in. No doubt Aaron and Minki weren’t sad to see them both go. 

“This doesn’t make sense,” Minhyun said. Jonghyun didn’t need to steal a friend’s car to get where he wanted. He’d hitch-hiked easily enough before. “We finally talked last night. He can’t have just left.”

Minhyun pulled his phone from his pocket. He’d missed three calls from Minki—and one from Moon Hoyoung. Dammit. Minhyun would have to call him back. 

Nothing from Jonghyun—who didn’t even have a cellphone. Minhyun should have waited for him to wake up before he left. 

“Jonghyun’s in trouble,” Minhyun said. “We should go after them.”

“He left of his own free will,” Minki said. “For what it's worth, Minhyun, I'm—”

“There’s another way Jonghyun could have gotten off the Registry.” It was hard for Minhyun to look toward the bathroom without seeing the Jonghyun from last night. Minhyun had told him to go to sleep. They’d be in a better place if Minhyun hadn’t let his exhaustion get the best of him. “He could have told them to take him off.”

“Even you can’t be that naïve.”

“Let me finish,” Minhyun said. His mouth wouldn’t wrap around the word ‘magic’ easily. He wished again that Jonghyun was here, to explain for himself. Exposing secrets kept for so long in Jonghyun’s absence felt like a betrayal. “Jonghyun’s magic isn’t like normal magic. It’s in his voice. It’s—it’s persuasive. Or causes compulsions. Or something like that, I don't know how it works.”

_I don’t have to worry about you believing me, because I know you will._

“He told me people believe anything he says. That’s why he talks so little and thinks so much before he says anything.”

“That’s why he was so weird before?” Dongho asked. "Can magic really do stuff like that?" He looked to Minki for answers.

“He should have better control than that," Minki said. "Much better."

“Not without help,” Aaron countered. “I doubt he’s met anyone else with perceptive magic before. If Minhyun’s right, he’s probably learned everything he knows about magic by trial and error.”

“You want to help him.” Minki addressed Aaron.

“I think we owe him a solid try.”

Silence.

“Would you forgive yourself if we let it go?” Aaron went on. His voice dropped as though he didn't want anyone else to hear. Minhyun averted his eyes--and saw Dongho doing the same. 

“You’re right,” Minki admitted. Aaron reached across and gently took hold of his hand. “I don’t like it though. Do you know what I’d do if I got miraculously taken off the Registry?” 

Minki turned to look at Minhyun. He wasn’t talking to Aaron anymore. "What?" Minhyun asked.

“Flee the country,” he said. “Not go to the most heavily secured place inside it.”

“He said he missed us.”

“He could have come to any of us, then. You were the hardest to reach and the least safe. You shouldn’t have been his first choice.”

“He couldn’t find you,” Minhyun said. “That’s what he told me. He came to the Memorial because he was certain I’d be there.”

A long pause, then finally Minki spoke again. "How long did it take you to find us when you tried?" 

No time. No time at all. "He lied to me," Minhyun realized. Jonghyun had come specifically to Minhyun, and Minhyun had not questioned it once. 

No matter how he twisted it in his head, though, Minhyun couldn’t believe Jonghyun wanted to harm anyone.

“I believe in Jonghyun,” Minhyun said. He looked at his friends. Dongho had been weirdly quiet—likely because Minhyun had thrown him into this without warning—but now his eyes encouraged Minhyun. He trusted Jonghyun.

“We have to go after him,” Minhyun went on, when no one said anything. He might not understand magic, but Minhyun understood secrets, and he understood how secrets trapped you. “If Jonghyun’s in a bad situation, it’s because he can't get out of it. He doesn’t deserve that. And his kind of magic is rare, right?”

"It depends on how exactly his magic works," Aaron said. "But from what it sounds like, yeah. Very."

That was what Minhyun had expected. "I don't believe we can afford for him to be anywhere but here then."

“I agree,” Dongho said. “I already told Minhyun I’ll teach everyone to sign again. That way we can talk to Jonghyun once we find him.”

“Can you take the time off of work?” Minki asked. 

"I've got a week worth of sick days."

“I can call and report that I recruited you as my driver. That way you'll still be paid,” Minhyun said. Technically the royal family were allowed to reassign castle employees. It was an old rule and not something they did often, but hey, it would make Sunhwa happy, maybe, even though Dongho wouldn't be the choice she expected. Still, Minhyun could swing it that he'd wanted to go with a friend over a stranger easily enough, and since Dongho was a castle employee, they already had his information and background check. 

“So I get to drive your car after all?” Dongho asked.

Minki and Aaron were looking at each other. They were silent, but Minhyun got the feeling they were saying more than he’d ever realize.

“I think Jonghyun asked us for help--in his own way,” Aaron said. "He took our car." 

“He wants us to go after him,” Minki said. "Hell of a way to get us involved, though. He could have asked."

“Good for him we're taking a break right now, huh?”

“Where do we even start?” Minki asked. “Jonghyun could be anywhere. It could take months to find him.”

“He’ll send us some type of sign,” Dongho said. “We’ll find it.” 

“Jonghyun knows the general area I’m traveling in.” Minhyun had mentioned it a couple times. Hopefully it would be enough, but if Jonghyun was anything, it was resourceful. If he wanted to be found, they'd find him. 

For a long pause, there was silence. So long that Minhyun almost let himself believe the talk was entirely done. They were doing it. They were going to find Jonghyun, together. 

Then Aaron spoke, "Minhyun, you realize you’re bending a lot of laws to do this, right?”

He could write a whole damn list of laws Minhyun was more than bending. But the thing was, the first crime Minhyun had committed was being magical, and that wasn't going away. Minhyun was breaking laws no matter what he did. He might as well help out one of his very oldest friends out as he did it. 

Minhyun nodded sharply. Confidently. Maybe with a little fear, but without regret or hesitation.

Dongho looked around at all of them. “This is the craziest thing I’ve done in forever. I’m so glad you guys are back.”

Yeah. Minhyun was too 

But they needed one more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed!! as always i treasure all kudos and comments!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are three kinds of magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally !!
> 
> Warning for a panic attack involving derealization

The day Aaron learned about magic, the snow fell as though someone had gathered it by the shovelful and tossed them all in the air at once. The wet clumps stuck fast to the windshield of his red Accent, which Aaron had to white-knuckle from the start. Crawling cars had bravely stamp-pressed brown tire tracks into the white roads, but Aaron saw few of them. New fluffy flakes filled the imprints too quickly, and the Accent moved much slower than other vehicles.

Really, the car was a Grade-A piece of shit. Aaron blamed it for why he was out here in the first place--the damn thing had snapped its serpentine belt, and Aaron had fixed it even more quickly than it had broken.

Normally he'd call that a miracle. He liked fixing things; he liked challenging himself to find what was wrong and replace it as quickly as possible. This new time had smashed any record he had ever managed, but it wasn't the same.

Aaron pulled over at the base of a looming hill. He couldn't get up it unless a plow went through first. Despite the setback, he didn't consider turning around. Even though he hadn’t warned Minki he was coming, and their last correspondence had been an awkward mess of _you-were-everything-to-me-once-but-now-we-haven't-talked-in-six-months._ Better than some of his other old relationships, really.

It was still snowing when Aaron shivered on Minki’s doorstep and failed to explain why he'd turned up in the middle of the night by way of dangerous roads. Minki took him in and gave him hot chocolate. Eight mini marshmallows floated on top, which was over-indulgent. Aaron usually limited himself to three.

And because Aaron was learning about magic the same way most people did—after all the plans for his entire life fell apart—he took the small kindness and started crying, wrapped up in the fuzzy red blanket Minki had placed on his lap.

Minki hugged him, and a while later, Aaron woke up curled against Minki on the couch. He didn’t remember laying down.

“Do you want to talk?” Minki asked. From the darkness outside, Aaron guessed it couldn’t have been all that long. From how swollen his face felt, he guessed he must look awful.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” He even sounded like he’d been crying.

“You needed it,” was all Minki said. He looked at Aaron with his big eyes, and Aaron couldn’t pull away from him. Minki accepted the sudden affection as though it hadn’t been years since they last cuddled.

Aaron was one of the ones Minki had saved. The first one Minki had saved. He was also the one who’d never left, and he relished when the back-and-forth banter they’d shared as children changed into something entirely new. They'd been dreamers as kids, but now, they had the power to turn dreams into reality. Aaron wanted to fix things, and Minki wanted to save people, and together they figured out a life for themselves.

And when that new life included getting close to Minki in a way Aaron had never, ever predicted, he certainly couldn’t complain. Their relationship had a sense of place and love and belonging wrapped together into sweet touches, and small shows of love, and endless jokes and conversation. Aaron loved Minki.

But before all of that, there were the people Minki hadn’t saved.

First and foremost, Jonghyun.

The first type of magic was what brought Aaron to Minki, though he--like many others--mistakenly thought of it as intuition alone. It was that special piece of Minki that made him someone who could understand, someone whose doorstep Aaron could show up on in the middle of a snowstorm for hot chocolate, and comfort, and answers.

At least, the magic helped Minki become that person. The ability to understand people, to read and manipulate them, had many applications. Earlier, it had calmed Aaron down enough so he could fall asleep. In other hands, this magic snuck through backdoors and made people hang onto a dangerously rising politician's every word. It called people on the phone and made them believe that their account had been compromised, but don't worry, because the price for renewed safety was merely one million won in the form of visa giftcards.

On the first day Aaron and Minki traveled with Dongho and Minhyun, Aaron’s body hurt. That wasn’t so unusual, and it was only a headache that unfurled like the fronds of a fern behind his eyes and pulsed in time with the bumps on the highway underneath them. Aaron had expected a tense ride, and this one delivered.

He leaned one shoulder against the door and winced every time the car jarred his body. 

Dongho drove the car and the conversation. He blew past the stifled responses, so genuinely thrilled that they'd all come together. Minki tried hard to match his enthusiasm, making up for Aaron's pained silence. Minhyun hardly spoke, besides calling ahead to the property that would house them.

Aaron couldn't blame him. Although Minhyun was all hasty, awkward assurances that he was fine, only tired, they were all lies. Aaron had yet to see Minhyun at a state other than constant magical vigilance. He was starting to think Minhyun’s magic always clouded around him like that, so strongly that even Aaron, who had no particular skill in reading other people’s magic, found it difficult to ignore.

The second kind of magic, according to Minki, was most misunderstood. It was uncommon, yet infamous because it tended to be loud. It spread out around a person and altered the molecules of the air around them. For one person, this changed the temperature. For another, it made liquid water seemingly appear from thin air. Sometimes the untrained users struggled so much to control it the magic left physical marks on their bodies.

 _Like Jonghyun's,_ Aaron had thought back then, though he didn't say it. It took him time to realize just how wrong he'd been. Jonghyun's magic wasn't loud.

Minhyun's was. It was a constant background of white noise, exhausting even to Aaron. Everything was ringing, and Aaron didn't know how Minhyun could stand it.

It soon became clear that he couldn't. Not really.

The place Minhyun brought them to was all rich brown wood. From the floors to the paneling on the walls and the bookshelves which lined the grandest of the rooms. The place was giant, more than enough for all of them, complete with a housekeeper that Minhyun introduced himself to. She seemed chuffed at the prospect of the Prince staying at her property.

 _The royal family hasn’t been here since the early 2000s._ _Have you been here before, Sir?_

Minhyun was too polite to dismiss her outright, but he did draw the line at a tour of the place, however. Minhyun informed her that they would not require any more services tonight. ( _“No, not even dinner.”_ )

He then faced them and said, “I need to make some calls. Please don’t disturb me unless absolutely necessary.” His voice was strained. Aaron didn't know what he planned on doing, but it wasn't calling anyone. 

The white noise continued, even with Minhyun a floor away. Aaron thumbed his way through the bookshelves, as Minki and Dongho chatted. He increasingly struggled to focus on the summaries of the mystery books coating the shelves, and even Minki, who had much more practice than him with unruly magic, stumbled over words. Incredibly, the roar didn't seem to affect Dongho.

“Is that him?” Aaron asked, finally, when he could no longer bear to ignore it. His voice trembled.

Minki’s lips were thin and his face pale. This pained Aaron, but it had to hurt Minki, emotionally, mentally, physically. For someone like Minki, the three were tossed into a big pot together. They simmered together and sometimes bubbled out the top when someone cranked the stove too high. 

Minhyun wasn't a stove set on high; Minhyun was a stove on fire. If Minhyun's magic was a roar to Aaron, it was high-pitched screaming to Minki. 

“It’s him,” Minki said darkly. “Fuck.”

Aaron grimaced back at him, and Minki swore again.

"What's going on?" Dongho asked. He looked at Minki for an explanation, but Minki only looked at his hands. Aaron knew that look on him. It was a quiet form of pain; the same thing Minki dealt with every time a kid slipped out of their hands and into the hands of people who would only abuse them because of their magic.

Aaron liked to fix things, and Minki liked to save people, and neither of them dealt well with failure.

Jonghyun might have been the first person Minki failed to save, but Minhyun was the second. 

The third kind of magic was the rarest kind, and the category wasn’t an exact fit. It was the add-on, a grouping of the miscellaneous, the youngest child with the pale hair and blue eyes and the dark-haired, dark-eyed siblings. This grouping of magical ability shared few characteristics: the tendency to accomplish subtle yet huge feats; the way it took something from you and never gave it back; the way this magic could crumble the world, or build a new from ashes, or both, or more, or less.

There was no ignoring this magic, and little controlling it.

Aaron had shivered as Minki explained it. He had felt fear. He had felt worry. He had wondered how this could possibly be fixed, because back then he hadn't yet realized Minki already had an arm extended, prepared to pull Aaron into a hug.

Aaron was the first person Minki ever saved, and the one who never left.

\--

MINHYUN

Reality was a relative term during a panic attack. Minhyun had learned that a while ago, and it helped, it really did. Unfortunately, facts were _also_ relative during a panic attack. 

Minhyun was not particularly unused to them, though he’d managed to decrease their frequency by discovering he only ever got them when he left his mother’s home.

It was almost understandable: few places reminded him so much of how much he could lose. If Minhyun’s life was a stream, that was the eddy that threatened to grab him and never let him move forward again. 

Minhyun had locked his bedroom door. He normally didn't, but this time he had to ensure he'd be left alone. This way, he was boxed into a room with such tall walls it looked like cardboard with the flaps turned up.

The lights flickered like candles, but Minhyun was certain everything would seem normal to other people.

_Reality is relative during a panic attack._

He’d learned in college to avoid mirrors, lest he watch ice crystallize across them. Instead, he curled into a ball at the foot of the impeccably made bed. Knees to chest. Hands wrapped around knees. Ignore the trembling. Close your eyes and see the snippets of memories as clearly as if you're living them again.

_Times flows differently during a panic attack._

Minhyun looks straight through it.

_The last Minhyun knew, Aaron had the key, but the supply closet doors open easily. Minhyun pulls the string of the weak, naked bulb, despite how the fluorescent hallway lights drown out its weaker, warmer color. The tile floor, damaged from a long history of dripping mops, is coated in dust. Minhyun expects him, but still almost doesn’t see Jonghyun in the back, curled into a ball among the mops._

_Finally, Jonghyun raises his head from his knees. “Close the door already,” he says._

_Minhyun does._

For a long while--or a short while, or perhaps merely a _while_ , unmodified--this continues. Minhyun is aware, and isn’t. He counts seven minuscule cracks in the siding. He counts eight minuscule cracks in the siding. _Did he cause that? Is his magic about to bring this whole place down?_ Awareness moves like something slimy down his back. Thoughts drip like drying amber, and sometimes the preserved memory-fossils inside wake up.

They don't release him in time.

A knock on the door.

"Jonghyun?"

A second too late, Minhyun registered what he’d said. His head had risen from his knees, and now he dropped his forehead to them again. Hopefully, whoever was on the other side hadn’t heard that.

He cleared his throat, so he could raise his voice without it cracking. “I said not to bother me!”

“You’ve been in there for hours!” Aaron called, and of course it was him. Minhyun didn't feel like hours had passed. “Come out.”

Aaron didn’t know what Minhyun was going through. Screw him. Even before the attack, Minhyun had felt remarkably off. He didn't like traveling with other people.

“We need to talk about Jonghyun,” Aaron went on, like he had overheard Minhyun’s resolve to ignore him. Dammit.

Minhyun’s body ached from being curled up so tightly. He took his time finding his feet—the world hadn’t yet solidified— then unlocked the door.

“Are you okay?” Aaron asked. He seemed to mean it. Or maybe it was just how easily Aaron managed to look earnest.

“I asked to not be disturbed for a reason.” Minhyun didn’t want to think about how he must look. He ran his hand through his hair and grimaced at the cold sweat near its roots.

“Do you need any aspirin or anything?” Aaron asked. “Or if you want Minki to check you out—”

“I'm not letting Minki do magic on me.”

“He could help. He wants to.”

Minhyun wasn’t going to glorify that with a response. He might be playing cool with what Aaron and Minki did, but it was still a gray area at best. They had good hospitals and doctors here for a reason, and it wasn’t so people could ignore them and use archaic treatments and alternative medicine. Minhyun, especially, wasn’t about to use any of that. It wouldn't help him.

Dongho and Minki were at the big wooden dining table. Minki had an arm on the table with which he propped up his head. Aaron slid into the seat next to him and gently grasped Minki’s free wrist between his fingers, like he wanted to check his pulse or something. It was as weird as it was affectionate.

Minhyun took the seat next to Dongho. It was a multi-step process. Everything was a multi-step process. Minhyun’s lungs treated the air he inhaled like smoke.

“You look awful,” Dongho said. “Are you sure you shouldn’t be resting?”

Minhyun would rather die than miss a conversation about Jonghyun. “Aaron said it’s important,” he said.

“We can plan over dinner,” Aaron said. “You need to eat something.”

“Does it have to be tonight?” Dongho asked. Minhyun must really look terrible. “We can talk tomorrow—”

“It’s fine,” Minhyun said. “I need to work tomorrow.” He still had a long way to go to catch up with current news and what he could and couldn’t talk about and strategies for publicity. “Are we ordering in?” he asked Aaron.

“I’m cooking."

Minki was watching Minhyun. He looked somber, and the stare made Minhyun want to fidget. Minhyun still didn’t understand how exactly Aaron and Minki’s lives worked. They healed people; it was a business; they were well-respected for it. Other than that, Minhyun's knowledge was frustratingly vague. He didn't like not understanding--but learning first-hand wasn't an option.

Jonghyun's magic hadn't hurt Minhyun. It had been quick, and terrifying in how normal it felt. There hadn’t been time to wonder what was happening to him until it was over. The idea of Minki doing the same made his stomach flip.

“Are you sure you don’t know where Jonghyun would have gone?” Dongho asked. It took Minhyun a beat to realize he’d addressed him.

“No.” Minhyun had run their conversations through his head more than once. Jonghyun hadn’t left him any clues, and it stung more than he was willing to admit.

“There has to be something we’re missing,” Dongho said.

Unfortunately, the nature of missed things meant they all could only stare at each other.

“If Jonghyun told any of us anything, it would have been Minhyun,” Aaron asserted.

“That’s not true,” Minhyun said. “I mean, surely you and Minki… Things between us were…”

They’d had one good moment. A short hug and the falsified feeling of doors opening. Doors Jonghyun had slammed shut again. Dammit, he could have talked to Minhyun about this. Minhyun could have protected him. Hadn’t he already proven that?

“He seemed more comfortable with you,” Dongho specified. “And I mean, you and Jonghyun always were close. Some things haven't changed.”

The way he said 'close' made it seem like he was sharing a joke with Minhyun, but Minhyun didn't get it. They had all been close back then.

“If anything, he’s angriest with me,” Minhyun said. “Everything that happened to him was my fault.” The words came out effortlessly, a physical and assured form of where his thoughts had taken him earlier. All the memories the others weren't privy to went sloshing through Minhyun's head. Maybe time hadn't yet straightened out.

_“How many other magical kids can there be? It’s me. They’re here for me, and if they search everyone to find me—what if they find someone else?”_

_“What?”_

_“What if another kid’s caught because of me?”_

_“What if you’re caught because of them? You can’t do anything about that.”_

Dongho was speaking. "...stopped it. We're never going to find out how they knew Jonghyun was magical." 

This was the same talk they’d tried to console themselves with all those years ago. Looking around, Minhyun could tell it had consoled exactly zero of them.

“This isn’t what we should talk about,” Minhyun said. “Dongho, you said you’d teach us to sign again. I know—I know we haven’t got Jonghyun back yet, but maybe…”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Dongho said. “Though I’m surprised you need help, Minhyun. You do it enough.”

“What?” It wasn’t the words so much that surprised Minhyun, it was that Dongho knew enough about him to know he still used sign language.

“They run news stories about it all the time,” Dongho said. “Korea’s Angel Prince and how he goes above and beyond to communicate with all citizens.”

Minhyun’s face burned. “They…blow it out of proportion.”

Aaron huffed. It was far from a true laugh, but the soft sound made Minhyun’s embarrassment almost worth it. “Remember the little girl?” Aaron asked. Minhyun didn’t, but apparently Dongho did.

“She did seem pretty touched you could talk to her,” Dongho said. “It means a lot when hearing people learn. You guys were some of the only hearing people my brother could really talk to.”

Minhyun had always been glad to have the skill. It turned out to be useful, and if he could make people happy just by communicating with them, Minhyun would always do it.

“They put that story all over, though,” Aaron said. He rolled his eyes as he said it. “With the video clip and everything—and all you asked was her _name.”_

“I didn’t tell them to put it everywhere,” Minhyun protested.

“Sure,” Dongho said. “I bet you loved it.”

Minhyun laughed then, incredulously.

“You’re lucky people find it endearing,” Minki said. “You’re really obvious when you check out of events.”

“Really?”

“You look fine,” Dongho said. “You keep that really blank smile on your face and seem like you’re kinda paying attention.”

“Kind-of?” Minhyun echoed, dismayed. “Wait, do you guys really watch?”

“Minhyun, you give like half the speeches about what’s happening in our government. Of course we’ve seen them.”

“Oh, right. That's so weird.” Because Minhyun hadn't seen any of them for so long, he'd never considered that they'd continued to see him, in any fashion. He tried to wrap his head around it. 

"Are you ready?" Dongho signed. It was the distraction Minhyun wanted.

Very quickly, it became clear that Minhyun and Dongho were leagues better than Minki and Aaron at communicating nonverbally. They did their best though, and the conversation went from simple and vocabulary-based 'what's that?' 'that's a bookshelf' to something resembling real conversation. It was nice. Fun, even. Aaron managed to crack a pun that had Minhyun laughing and Minki rolling his eyes, and Dongho looked thrilled to see them get as far as they did. 

"Are you still working with—what's her name—?" Dongho signed. Minhyun tried to figure out what he was talking about, even though it was clear he was addressing Minki. "The girl," he added, when Minki seemed confused. 

"Gahyeon," Minki signed, letter by letter. Then aloud, "she's learning, but we expected that. The question is whether she'll learn in time."

"In time for what?" Minhyun asked.

"Her to not get caught." Minki’s eyes had a challenge in them, and his voice a hard edge.

She was magical. Minki was helping a girl conceal her magic, lest they take her away.

_“We’ll protect you.”_

_"That won’t work."_

“Will it work?” Minhyun asked. “Can she hide it?”

”It’s not foolproof,” Minki said. “She’ll never be totally safe.”

Minhyun hadn’t expected him to say something about how easy it was, but it still stung to hear that. _You’ll never be safe._

“Unless…”

“Unless?” Minhyun’s voice was sharper than necessary. Minki met his gaze.

“We got rid of the Registry entirely. There's no reason for it.”

“That’s not an option,” Minhyun said automatically.

“Do you really believe in that stuff?” Dongho asked. He, too, was oddly dampened. Stifled. Minhyun didn’t know how to answer.

“Magic hurts people,” he said. That was a fact, no matter how they wanted to look at everything.

“You don’t know how it works. You don’t know anything about it.” Minki’s voice was quieter now.

“It’s not in my power to change anything anyway,” Minhyun said. His mother would never, ever alter her policies on magic. If they wanted to change anything, they’d need a new Queen.

“Do you think it’s right, though?” Aaron asked, and now all of this felt like an attack. Minhyun was vividly reminded that Aaron had tricked him into entering this conversation. no matter how well it had gone.

“The people don’t want reforms.”

“I do,” Minki said. “I’m a citizen.”

“Seconded,” Aaron said.

“Yeah but—but you’re—” Minhyun wanted to finish it with _'but you're magical'_ except even he could tell that wasn't the right thing to say.

“What?” Minki’s tone had hardened. “We’re what?” When Minhyun didn't answer, he went on, “this is your problem. Your entire image is that you go around listening to people, but you ignore huge pieces of the country and only go where no one who might argue with you lives. Have you ever even faced a hard question?”

“Minki, that’s enough,” Aaron said, like he hadn’t started all of this himself.

Minhyun curled his hand into a fist beneath the table. He wasn’t going to add to this anger. If Minki thought that, Minhyun wasn’t going to change his thoughts. Minhyun spoke nearly everywhere that invited him, and he organized his locations himself. There was no grand conspiracy going on behind the scenes.

Dongho was avoiding Minhyun’s eyes. Minki was staring broodily at the table. Aaron was struggling to watch Minhyun and Minki at the same time. It had been so good only a few minutes ago.

“I don’t understand how you can say everything you just did and also say you don’t support the same rebels you insist Jonghyun is working with,” Minhyun said.

“Minhyun,” Minki sighed. “Don’t try to tell me I support violence.”

No, not violence. Just magic. And Minhyun knew the lines between the two were thin.

"I’m going make dinner,” Aaron said. “Minhyun, come help me.”

“I can’t cook.”

“You can still help." Aaron was still standing at the table, one hand on his chair, prepared to push it in. Now Minhyun stood too.

Minhyun wanted nothing more than to sleep. He didn’t understand why Aaron had wanted him down here so much. Minhyun knew himself better than Aaron knew him.

“I’m very tired,” Minhyun said. “I’m going to—”

“You need to eat something first. You haven’t since this morning.”

“Fine.” Aaron really wasn’t going to let this go, huh? Minhyun followed him into the kitchen but only leaned back against a counter. He looked down at his arms and ran a finger along the goosebumps covering his skin. Pots clattered together as Aaron freed a big one from under the stove. He filled it with water and put it on the burner.

Minhyun should figure out what Aaron’s problem was with him. He’d done his best to get Minhyun out of his room, and Minhyun still didn’t know why. Aaron flicked the electronic stove on, the heat turned as far as he could make it.

“It’s cold in here,” Aaron said. He held his hands near the burner like it would actually warm them.

Minhyun held his arms closer to his body but didn’t answer. "Why did you want my help?"

“It seemed like you needed a minute.”

“We barely even talked about Jonghyun. I should have stayed upstairs." Except Minhyun still thought the sign language conversation had been nice. He didn't regret that part of it, at least. It was just that magic had a tendency to ruin good things. 

“I wanted to make sure you were okay. I was worried about you.”

“I’m very used to traveling alone,” Minhyun admitted. “It’s…odd not doing that. But I'm fine."

“I thought you might be sick,” Aaron said.

“I never feel good the first day I travel,” Minhyun said. He acted like it was casual. Some people got carsick. Minhyun got magical attacks the day he left for trips.

“How is it? Traveling with other people?”

Exhausting. Minhyun lived this life so he could have his own schedules and not answer to as many people—or have to explain himself.

“I think I should stick to being alone,” Minhyun said. He was going to have to apologize to Minki later. Anger wasn’t an emotion Minhyun liked. In fact, he normally prided himself on how rarely he faced it. Today he felt soaked in it. Minhyun couldn’t escape this unruly, all-encompassing anger. It was in the air he breathed.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me today,” Minhyun admitted. Aaron had always been so fucking easy to talk to. “I’m not usually like this.” Even when he had magical attacks.

“I know,” Aaron said. “And I might know why.”

“Really?” Minhyun was careful. Aaron didn't know that much about him. He didn't understand this.

“The prison where they took Jonghyun probably had magical suppressors.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Minhyun chalked up anything that kept his magic at bay as a positive. “They did put something on Jonghyun.”

Aaron shook his head. “That’s too localized. The suppressors would have a bigger range—one per room, maybe. They’ve been implementing more again.”

“Good.”

“Min,” Aaron said. “Suppressors prevent the flow of magic. We can tell when that’s happening. It’s not good for us.”

Minhyun still didn’t understand. Aaron dumped noodles into the boiling water and turned the temperature down.

“I mean, we’re used to magic being around us. When it’s not, it’s... distressing.”

“Maybe that’s bad for some people—I don’t know—but not me. I’m not magical.”

A pause. Minhyun held his breath. The steam drifted up off the pot on the stove. “Right,” Aaron said, finally. “I forgot about that.”

“You forgot—” Minhyun spluttered. “How do you assume someone’s magical? Hardly anyone is magical!” Five percent of the population was magical. That was it.

Except—the sensors hadn’t worked with Jonghyun. Except their methods of measuring magic were often faulty. Except Minhyun knew for a fact that thousands and thousands of magical people got away without being in the Registry.

Aaron didn’t say anything else about it, and Minhyun debated whether he ruined the situation entirely or whether it was still salvageable.

“Here,” Aaron called him over. “Cut this.” He motioned towards a cutting board with some green onions on it.

“Okay?” Minhyun picked up the knife and started. Aaron took one look at how close Minhyun’s fingertips were to the knife and reached down and adjusted Minhyun’s hands. “It’s probably better for you to do this.”

“You need something to calm down.”

“I told you, the suppressor or whatever didn’t do anything to me.”

“Okay, but you’re still not calm.”

He was right. Minhyun had snapped at him, yet again. He groaned and closed his eyes, setting the knife on the counter so he could press his knuckles again his eyes until it hurt.

“There’s a lot more to cut,” Aaron said mildly, and it startled Minhyun into picking up the knife again. He took a deep breath and let himself fall into the rhythmic motions. It wasn’t until Minhyun had finished the onions and moved on to peeling some potatoes that Aaron spoke again.

“The schools for magical kids,” he said. “They’re covered in suppressors.”

“Yeah?” Minhyun didn’t want to talk about magic or suppressors or try to make sense of anything Aaron was saying. “So?”

“Suppressors cause massive anxiety to magical people.”

Minhyun had no idea how to answer that. The kids would adapt, that was what kids did. But then Minhyun imagined a sixteen-year-old (Jonghyun) facing day-after-day of the oppressive air and stolen-breaths that Minhyun had dealt with the entire day.

How would that sixteen-year-old fair, if Minhyun, an adult, struggled after only a couple minutes under a suppressor.

How would that sixteen-year-old fair?

How did Jonghyun fair?

“Those kids… You and Minki help them somehow?”

“We try to keep them out of it all,” Aaron corrected. “Once they end up there… That means we failed.”

“Then what happens to them?” Minhyun asked. “Once they graduate.”

“They try to find an apartment that rents out to magical people without charging them ridiculous fees. They try to find a place of work that accepts their applications. It’s not easy to be magical, and untrained magic can be a hindrance.”

Yeah, tell Minhyun about it.

“It was my fault Jonghyun had to go through that,” Minhyun said. “I never told you guys.”

“You were a kid, Minhyun.” Aaron’s voice was very gentle. “We all were.”

“Jonghyun and I talked. He told me he was going to turn himself in, and I didn’t stop him. I could have stopped him.”

Minhyun had run that conversation through his head so many times. He’d let Jonghyun give up. There had been so many things Minhyun could have done, and in the moment, he’d done none of them.

A week later, Minhyun turned out to be magical. Jonghyun had protected another theoretical magical kid; Minhyun most certainly would have been discovered otherwise. It was a miracle—except Minhyun didn’t believe in those.

Minhyun believed that somewhere inside of him, he’d known he was magical too, and because of that, he’d let Jonghyun take the fall for him. That was why Minhyun hadn’t stopped him.

The first thing magic had ever done to Minhyun was make him hurt his closest friend.

Aaron had such a myriad of emotions on his face that Minhyun couldn’t even begin to evaluate them. He was dealing with the knowledge that maybe Minhyun wasn’t worth saving. He shouldn’t put this much effort into him. Minhyun didn’t deserve his kindness or his help.

“What exactly did Jonghyun say?” Aaron asked. His face still said way too much, all rolled into a messy white noise.

_“I’m the one that told people. It’s my fault if anyone’s caught."_

“I don’t know,” Minhyun said. He was so tired. “Does it even matter? I did what I did.”

“Because Jonghyun told you to.”

“What?”

“Minhyun, none of us knew what Jonghyun’s magic could do back then, but he used it for weeks.”

Minhyun was hearing everything Aaron said, and in fact, the words were in an order that made sense, but Minhyun couldn’t comprehend them. He couldn’t take something that big and apply it to those memories.

Jonghyun had been so insistent that it hadn’t been Minhyun’s fault when Minhyun told him it was. Minhyun had taken solace in that, but he’d thought Jonghyun was being as kind and forgiving as he always had been.

“He told Minki and me to not worry about him that morning,” Aaron said. “We never even tried to find him. I thought it was my fault for a long time—Minki, too. When you told us what he can do…”

He had relieved Aaron of that burden.

Minhyun still had a potato peeler in his hand. He put it on the counter.

“Did he know?”

Aaron shook his head. “Remember the bruising on him? And how exhausted he was all the time after it started? That kind of magic…it takes something from you. Using it like he was would have killed him.”

That day, Jonghyun had insisted he had to turn himself in because if he didn’t, he was putting other kids at risk. That had been a weak argument even then. It had seemed like Jonghyun had given up, and was disguising that he’d decided to lay down and die rather than keep fighting.

It made sense that he would have been in pain. All of this made more sense than Minhyun had ever expected it to.

“It really wasn’t anyone’s fault, Minhyun,” Aaron said.

_“Don’t tell anyone. Not even hyung and Minki and Dongho. I need—if—if they know I won’t do it.”_

_“I don’t want you to do it.”_

_“I have to. They know about me; there’s no other way they’d know about magic. I can’t let someone else take the fall for me.”_

_“Jonghyun—” He could have finished it in so many different ways._

Jonghyun, don’t do it. Jonghyun, this won’t work. Jonghyun, I love you, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.

_"Don’t,” Jonghyun said._

_Minhyun didn’t._

“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Aaron said apologetically. Minhyun grazed his fingers against his cheek, and found Aaron wasn’t lying. He was crying. He never cried.

Aaron led him to the stool in the kitchen, and made him sit. Minhyun tried to protest that he was fine, but now he was aware of the tears running down his face, and he doubted his words convinced Aaron much.

Aaron was smiling kindly at him. “I get it,” he said, and he finished cutting what Minhyun had been working on.

He dumped those into their pot and turned back to Minhyun. Aaron leaned back against the counter, both hands on it.

“Has anyone ever told you about the three kinds of magic?” Aaron asked.

Minhyun shook his head.

"Do you want me to?”

Minhyun looked at him, and then looked at him longer. Jonghyun’s words flipped around in his head, his assertion that Minhyun would need to talk about everything one day—but there was more than that.

There was Aaron checking on him after the attack. Aaron telling him how suppressors worked, and his hesitation when Minhyun said he wasn't magical.

“You know, don’t you?” Minhyun asked.

“Yes.”

This was it. Minhyun’s greatest secret, out in the open for the second time ever.

“Tell me what to do,” he begged.

"We should talk to Minki," Aaron answered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for bearing with me and my slow updates!! nufics had my whole attention for a while. i hope you enjoyed!!


	11. The Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonghyun either would be there or it was all a bust; no matter what, this was the end of the road for them.

Minhyun had almost grown used to Minki bringing up his most dangerous secret. Five days ago, when Aaron had led Minhyun to Minki and made him say it, Minki hadn’t been surprised. Saying the words had been the hardest part of the conversation. They’d left a bitter aftertaste.

_I am magical._

Now Minki brought it up. Casual references. The times where Minki reprimanded him because his magic was being “loud.”

The times Minki tried to explain exactly how Minhyun should make it be quiet again.

It was harder to accept that they were running out of time. Jonghyun still hadn’t contacted them. It was possible he couldn’t.

And on top of all of that, Minhyun had to maintain his normal tasks as Prince of the nation. He did his best to juggle all of it. 

One of his more annoying daily tasks was his check-in with Detective Moon.

“Good morning, Detective.”

Their calls were often curt. Minhyun fulfilled his promise to Sunhwa, but he didn’t stay on the line longer than necessary. Moon had already told Minhyun he didn’t support his decisions to remain outside the castle and outside of Moon’s own protection.

“Are you still at the Wolgot-Dong location?” Moon asked.

Minhyun confirmed he was. If Moon had followed the script they’d written over the past few days, the call would have ended there. Instead, Moon continued.

“I still advise you to return, sir. It’s dangerous for you to be alone right now.”

A shiver trailed down Minhyun’s spine. He stood from where he’d been sitting at the kitchen island and began to walk. This place was big enough to walk near aimlessly through its rooms, and now Minhyun took advantage of that. “I have obligations,” he said. He was less safe at the castle than out here.

“You could be the target of another attack.”

Moon still believed someone had attacked him. Minhyun almost felt bad for leading him so far in the wrong direction, but he certainly couldn’t redirect him to the truth.

“Perhaps after my scheduled events.” He still needed to speak at the opening of the museum in Busan in a week and had another appearance at a Busan news station a week after that. Minki and Aaron hadn’t said it yet, but Minhyun knew if they hadn’t found Jonghyun by the time he had to leave for Busan, that would be goodbye. “I still doubt they would target me, in any case. Protecting Sunhwa and my Mother is more important.”

Minhyun paced through a third room only to stop in the doorway of the next. It was a bright room, complete with a piano that Dongho had praised and then played more than once since arriving. A few picture frames sat on the lid. There was even a picture of Minhyun on the piano, taken at some formal event years ago that Minhyun could no longer specifically recall.

“You’re making a mistake,” Detective Moon said, but Minhyun was no longer listening. The lacy white curtains shifted in the gentle summer breeze. Someone had left the window open. Except Minhyun remembered closing it last night. He always walked through wherever he was sleeping and ensured the windows were closed and doors locked before he fell asleep.

Maybe someone had reopened it. Dongho stayed up later than any of them. Minhyun could imagine him forgetting to close the window again.

Or someone had broken into the house. Maybe they were watching them. Waiting for a chance to hurt them.

“Sir—"

“I can take care of myself,” Minhyun said. He couldn’t deal with Moon Hoyoung right now. “Panic would only make things worse.”

Minhyun peeked beyond the curtain, but outside was quiet. The grass was green, dotted only with a few leaves that had fallen as though summer was already over. Minhyun’s car was undisturbed.

“You may not see it near you, but there will be real ramifications if you aren’t under adequate protection.”

“You have already failed to keep people from entering the castle,” Minhyun snapped. “You should focus on making sure that won’t happen again, not incessantly on me. If I hide away like I am afraid, people will notice. It will scare them. My events are scheduled and have been announced. I won’t cancel them.”

“At least return after the museum opening,” Moon said.

“We can discuss options again after it.” Minhyun had another event scheduled after that one.

“Sir—”

“That is all, Detective.” Minhyun hung up. He had more important things to worry about. The gentle summer breeze blew some hair into Minhyun’s eyes. He shut the window, then locked it.

He was overreacting, wasn’t he? An open window wasn’t a cause for concern. But Minhyun couldn’t shake that this was like a bad omen. Things had been too quiet.

The hairs on Minhyun’s arms rose. He might not be able to feel it, but according to Minki, this was his magic. This was something inside of him perceiving danger, and reacting how it best believed it could keep him safe.

Minki said to work with it, not against it, but Minhyun had absolutely no idea what that meant. Minki kept reminding him that steps forward were steps forward, no matter how small.

Their steps had so far been microscopic.

Minhyun sighed and looked out the window again, scanning for anything, or anyone. The garden’s welcome sign swung gently in the morning breeze. Nothing else moved.

The arm holding the curtain up was covered in goosebumps. Minhyun shouldn’t be around glass right now.

He backed into plushy armchair. The cushion compressed under him as though it, too, had let out a long breath. From here, Minhyun could see little besides the rim of the house and the security camera attached to it.

Wait.

Cameras. This entire property was under surveillance. They didn’t have people watch it live or anything, but the cameras did record all motion and save those clips. Minhyun even had a decent idea of how it all worked; he’d had to view the recordings once or twice.

He headed down into the basement. It was protocol to have a computer set up and instantly able to monitor all security cameras, in the event a twenty-four-hour security guard was employed at the property. In a house as big as this one, that meant a small room kept separate from the rest of the basement, and a PC connected to two large monitors.

It was simple enough for Minhyun to pull up the cameras, though harder for him to figure out how to view previous footage. At some point, he managed instead to pull up a general overview of house security—which answered Minhyun’s question for him.

All alarms were enabled. All security cameras except one were functional. Minhyun clicked on the details for the one offline. No connection. It could be a coincidence—or not. Was Minhyun overreacting? 

Moon would say no. He’d made it clear he thought Minhyun was underreacting.

Minhyun looked over the rest of the security information. Something else was wrong.

ANTI-MAGIC DEFENSE: DISABLED

It took Minhyun two clicks to expand the details because of how his hand trembled on the mouse. The expanded details reported no problems, only that the defense hadn’t been enabled. Minhyun could change that with a couple clicks, it seemed.

They needed all the protection they could get. He watched the loading bar move across the screen.

In the back of his mind, a voice suspiciously like Minki’s reminded him that locking out magic was not the answer. But these people had scared Minki too. Even he had to support using anti-magic measures when they were a threat.

Besides, it was now enabled, and Minhyun didn’t feel any different. He returned upstairs.

Minki met him at the top of the staircase. He was ruffled, still in pajamas, with his hair all over the place. “You’re okay,” he said, and his eyes shut for a second. He rubbed them with the back of his hand before looking at Minhyun again. “What happened? When the suppressor—I thought—”

“It’s nothing,” Minhyun said. “Probably.”

“It’s not nothing,” Minki said. “They turned a suppressor on. Minhyun, we shouldn’t be talking. You should be calling whoever it is that protects you and getting people out here.”

“A suppressor?” So that was what Minhyun had turned on? But Minki thought that someone who wanted to harm Minhyun had done it? “Why would they do that?”

“I’m getting the others. You call for someone to help you; we’ll get out—”

“I turned it on.”

Minki stopped halfway up the stairs. “What.”

“I—a window was open,” Minhyun admitted. “I know I closed it. And I checked the security tapes to see if they caught anything but… I saw the house’s magical security was disabled,” Minhyun said. Minki was staring at him with pity. “It seemed reasonable,” Minhyun defended. “One of the cameras is down. They could have done it.”

“Turn it off,” Minki said. “Right now.”

“I still don’t—”

“I opened that window last night," Minki said impatiently. "Minhyun, I’ve been telling you for days that fighting your magic will only hurt you. The more you do things like this, the more you’re playing into their hands.”

Minki sounded disappointed, which was absurd. Minhyun still didn’t understand how stopping magic was a bad thing when they were possibly being attacked by magical rebels. Even if Minki thought he had overreacted, still. 

He tried to explain. “It’s not my magic I was worried about. It’s theirs. If they were here now… I couldn’t use magic to stop them, so why not make it so they can’t use magic either?”

“You’re messing with things you don’t understand,” Minki said.

“Then explain it to me.”

“Turn it off first.”

Minhyun did so, and when he climbed the stairs again, trying desperately to feel any difference and still failing, he found Minki watching a kettle he’d placed on the stove. A thin wisp of steam came from its spout, but it wasn’t yet boiling.

“They want you back, don’t they?” Minki said without turning around. “Your security. Your family. There must be people upset that you’re not well protected right now.”

“They still believe I was attacked a few nights ago.” Minhyun’s skin prickled, and he ran his palms over his arms. Was this the change from the now-disabled suppressor?

“You don’t want to go.”

“If they find out I’m magical… When will I know enough to hide it from them?”

Minki grimaced. “At the speed we’re going…”

“Why can’t I use a suppressor to do it for me then? Yeah, they hurt, but you always say magic is trade-offs. Why can’t this be mine?”

“If they worked like that, it would’ve worked when they put them everywhere.”

“My mom did?” Minhyun doubted the Queen had ever heard of suppressors.

“Fifty years ago.”

“What? But that’s—"

“Before the ban,” Minki said. “Minhyun. Magic doesn’t _do_ big things. Magic makes little changes. Yours is supposed to surround you, and keep you safe. When it can’t do that, it grows agitated.”

Agitated magic could explode.

“Minki, are you saying what I think you are?” The tea kettle finally whistled, and Minki was quick to move it from the stove. He already had a coffee mug and a teabag picked out.

“They wanted to stop magic, and… they did,” Minki said. “But the ban wasn't their first idea.” He looked straight at Minhyun, and his big eyes were unnerving when focused so closely.

“You can only take so much of that kind of pressure. Otherwise… I’m surprised you could even break a window.”

“Then what do I do?” he asked. “Even if—if that means I won’t hurt anyone when I go back, they’ll still find me.”

“Let me read you,” Minki urged. “I’ll be able to understand what’s happening, and why your magic is so disconnected right now.”

Minki had previously made it clear that if he were to help Minhyun, he’d have to first figure out Minhyun’s situation. Minki’s magic—emotion-based magic, empathetic magic—would aid him greatly.

“It won’t hurt,” he said kindly. It didn't matter. Jonghyun’s magic hadn’t hurt, and Minhyun still hadn’t liked it.

“Tell me why you’re so scared of—them—first?”

“Unifiers? They—”

“That’s what they’re called?”

Minki shrugged. “They call themselves it. They say they want to unify the three kinds of magic—but that doesn’t really mean anything. Their recruits come from the schools, and most of those kids only need somewhere to go.”

A community. Yeah, Minhyun could understand the appeal of that. And the name too. Minhyun had firsthand knowledge of how powerful names could be to sway opinions. Laws were always named as though they’d do more than what was intended—sometimes even different things than what were directly intended.

It was dishonest, maybe, but if everything was named exactly accurately, they’d never get public support for anything.

Minki held out his hand. “Now will you let me do this?”

“You didn’t answer me,” Minhyun said. “Why are you scared of them?”

“We keep kids out of the government schools,” Minki said impatiently. “They need kids in them to get new recruits.” It still wasn’t a full answer, but Minhyun got the feeling it was the best he’d get.

Minki offered his hand out to Minhyun again, and now Minhyun gave in and put his hand in Minki’s.

Nothing happened.

The edge of the marble countertop pressed into the small of Minhyun’s back. Steam rose off Minki’s tea.

“You’re suppressing it,” Minki said, finally. “I mean, we knew that, but you’re _really_ suppressing it—holy shit, Minhyun. Do you ever talk to anyone about anything?”

Minhyun wrapped his free arm protectively around his body. This life was the one Minhyun had chosen. The traveling. The meeting people. He served his country and helped people. This was the life Minhyun wanted.

Even if it could be lonely. 

“Tell me what you want,” Minki said.

_"What?"_

“Whatever you think of.”

Minhyun didn’t know. He was content with his life. He’d _fought_ for this life.

“Don’t _do_ that,” Minki reprimanded. He squeezed Minhyun’s hand. “Let me in. Or let someone in. Aaron. Dongho. _Someone_.”

Minhyun still didn’t like this.

“I want to not be magical,” he said.

“You can’t. So forget about wishing for that. It won’t ever happen.”

“Thanks.”

“Tell me what else. What do you want that we can actually do?”

“I want Jonghyun back.”

Minki still waited for more.

Minhyun didn’t know what else to say. He hadn’t had time to think past them getting Jonghyun. Minhyun failed to meet Minki's stare, and looked around the room instead.

Normally, he considered the places he stayed as waypoints and little else. He remembered most well, because he’d gone to them so many times, but this one was different. He hadn’t only gone through the motions; he'd made memories. 

Minhyun didn't want to lose that again. If he didn't find Jonghyun before he left for Busan, he would. 

“That’s a start,” Minki said, and let go. Minhyun pulled his hand back.

“A start of what?”

Before Minki could answer, footsteps thudded down the staircase. Minhyun nearly flinched.

“Am I interrupting?” It was Aaron, now in the doorway of the kitchen.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Minki said.

Despite wanting an answer to his question, Minhyun was relieved that it was over. He left like he’d aged a decade so far today.

“Has anyone made coffee?” Aaron asked.

“I’ve got tea,” Minki said.

“Gross.” The tea was something medicinal. Minhyun hadn’t been too interested in trying it either, but apparently Minki swore by it.

“Tell me that again when you get sick and I don’t.”

“It’s exertion,” Aaron said. “I do all the real work, so that’s why I get sick.”

“All the real work, he says. You’d be lost without me.”

“If you say so, babe.”

“Aaron!” Minki’s tone was somewhere between astonishment, amusement, and anger. Minhyun found himself smiling. Minki had always been someone worth spectating.

“Our lease is under my name,” Minki said.

“Our car is under mine.”

“And look how well you took care of it,” Minki said.

“Low blow,” Aaron said. “Salt in my wounds. Knowing she’s out there somewhere without me keeps me up at night.”

“Really? Because you crushed me last night and didn’t wake up even when I shoved you off.”

Aaron laughed. There was a small clattering at the counter, the sound of ceramic on smooth marble countertop.

“Hey, Minhyun, you want any?”

As though on cue, the coffee pot spit and spurted liquid into its pot.

“I don’t drink coffee."

“See? He’s smart. He probably drinks tea.”

“Not that kind,” Minhyun said. He wrinkled his nose.

Now Aaron laughed with him. “Nice, Min,” he said. Then, “How about some soju? Looks like you need it and I dunno if you noticed, but this place is fucking stocked. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Minhyun almost laughed. Aaron was something. He’d always been something, but this was something else.

“I’m good,” he asserted. “I also don’t drink alcoh—”

“You’re a lightweight, aren’t you?” Minki interrupted. He grinned.

“What?”

“There was a thing, a couple years back—like a charity thing,” Minki said. He leaned against the island and tilted his chin up as though watching some movie in the sky. “You were all over T.V., and you looked smashed in one of the clips. It was great.”

“I looked _what_?” Minhyun repeated. “When was this?”

Aaron laughed. “It wasn’t that bad,” he said. “It probably looked fine to most people. You just had on that weird blank expression where you blink a lot, and no one can tell if you’re confused or unfazed or if you’re so zoned out you have no idea what’s going on.”

Minhyun blinked at him.

“That one,” Minki added helpfully.

“What about it made me look drunk?”

“Your cheeks were all flushed, and you kept doing that thing where you try to hide a smile and think it’s working but literally everyone can tell.”

“That’s inconclusive. I never drink at events.” Minhyun didn’t need them to tell him he was failing to hide his smile.

“Except that one?”

“Because of that one,” Minhyun admitted. Both Aaron and Minki laughed.

There was a series of thumps from the stairs. Minhyun twisted his head just in time to see Dongho’s head pop out from over the stair railing. His hair was very fluffy, though he had gotten dressed. Later, he’d likely throw a cap on over it rather than tame it.

“Oh thank God, there’s coffee.” Dongho grabbed a cup and poured the rest of the pot into it.

“Ha, tiebreaker,” Aaron said. “Coffee wins.”

“Huh?” Dongho had the cup nearly up to his mouth and his eyebrows high on his forehead.

“Best beverage. Better than tea and—whatever it is Minhyun likes.”

“High-end champagne?” Dongho asked. “It’s all over this place.”

Aaron barked out a laugh, drowning out Minhyun’s reiteration that he doesn’t drink.

Dongho took a seat at the kitchen island, as Aaron hopped onto the counter. Minhyun was glad they were all here. This kind of happiness was a buzzing, frantic thing. Like he’d drunk an entire pot of coffee after all.

“Man,” Dongho said, like he’d read Minhyun’s mind. “This is nice, isn’t it? The four of us together.”

“You only say that every day,” Minki said, but he was smiling. Dongho retaliated with a hand motion they’d made up years ago, which meant a colloquial ‘bite me’ between them. Minhyun hadn’t remembered it until he saw it.

He laughed, even though there wasn’t anything super funny about it. Whatever. This was a good moment. Minhyun surveyed the others, his eyes skating over each. This was a moment that would make memories.

“Remember all the crap we used to get up to?” Minhyun asked. They had so many shared memories between them. 

“We had the key to a closet and thought we were so cool,” Minki said.

“Remember when we broke that fence cause Minhyun couldn’t climb it?” Dongho asked.

“God, Jonghyun couldn’t fathom why you could never get over that thing.” Minki nudged Minhyun as he said it.

“Shut up,” Minhyun grumbled.

“And that time we found out other people went there and got all mad about it?” Aaron said. “We really thought that place was ours.”

Minhyun hadn’t remembered that. At least not explicitly. It had happened right before everything fell apart. There had been a NO TRESPASSING sign on the fence’s perpetually closed gate. They’d ignored it since the first day, because it was so clear the area wasn’t maintained by anyone.

Minki had been the one to notice the spray paint that day. The red squiggle was sloppy, covering only half the letters and with stray dots and lines from where the paint ran. Half of the letters were covered up. 

They hadn’t been the ones to do it.

“Jonghyun kept trying to get us to name the forest something,” Minhyun recalled. “To make it ours. Remember?”

“Notres,” Dongho said. It was as odd of a word now as it had been then. Unique. Strange.

Theirs.

“Did we ever decide?” Minhyun asked. “I don’t remember.”

That had been right around the time Jonghyun discovered he was magical. Everything had all fallen apart so quickly—Minhyun never even remembered they’d decided at all, though he’d remembered Notres as an option they’d talked about. Things had changed so quickly during that time.

“It would have been Jonghyun’s decision,” Aaron said. “He loved that place.”

“Wait,” Minki said. His tone caught Minhyun’s attention. He wasn’t talking about the past anymore.

“You good?” Aaron asked.

Minki looked at Minhyun. There was a wildness in his eyes. “Jonghyun wants to be found,” he said.

“Care to share more?” Aaron asked.

Minki looked around to include all of them now. “Where would Jonghyun go if he wanted us—only us—to find him?”

That forest meant something to them, and nothing to anyone else.

“Jonghyun can't be there, though,” Minhyun said, a poor attempt to temper his growing hopefulness. “What's he doing? Camping there?”

“Maybe he thought it wouldn’t take us six days?”

Dongho stood and put his cup in the sink. “Only one way to find out,” he said.

Minhyun exchanged a look with Minki. Aaron hopped off the counter.

“Man, are we sure it’s still there?” he asked. “I always figured—it was a construction site, wasn’t it?”

“It’s there,” Minhyun said. “The politics of it are complicated.” No one really knew who owned the land. The disputes had been tossed back and forth in courts for years. Minhyun had always been kind of glad it was never resolved.

Minki snorted. “Bless the disorganization of the government. No offense, Minhyun.”

Minhyun was the furthest from offended. Finally, they had a lead. Finally, they were going to find Jonghyun. Nothing could ruin this for him. 

Altogether, they agreed to not return to this location. Jonghyun either would be there or this was all a bust; no matter what, this was the end of the road for them.

But Minhyun was hardly anxious as he repacked. This felt right.

It felt like Jonghyun would be there.

Once again, Dongho drove, while Minhyun sat shotgun. Aaron and Minki were in the backseat. Minhyun could see their clasped hands through the rearview mirror.

The countryside traveled slowly alongside the windows. Minhyun tried not to fizzle out of his skin.

The drive would take over a half-hour.

“So what now?” he asked.

The answer was not much. Minhyun bounced his leg, and fiddled with his seatbelt, and stole looks back at Aaron and Minki. No one was talking. The light-hearted atmosphere they’d gained earlier had devolved into something cautiously hopeful yet grim. Minhyun’s heart tried to burst out through his skin.

Finally, Dongho turned on the radio. He messed with the stations for so long that Minhyun nearly offered to play music for him, but then Dongho found what he wanted.

The soft alternative music filled the car as they approached the forest. Their old high school passed by, and then they were turning down an unlabeled road. It became gravel. 

The forest was old, huge in scope if not in scale. A dark green plant with a spicy smell made up the understory. Minhyun had memories soaked in that scent, when he’d go running through and the leaves and twigs that smacked his cheeks enveloped him in it.

The spicebushes were spindly and delicate, the ferns underneath even more so. Wide and imposing, the tree trunks with diameters too large for Minhyun to wrap his arms around made the backbone of the forest, many imperfect spines breaking into the sky. The forest was big enough that you could get lost for fifteen minutes, but too small to be lost for more than twenty.

By twenty, you hit the fence, no matter where within it you had started.

An old, old gate separated the gravel road outside from the unused road inside. Even a decade ago, it hadn’t looked like a real road. Now it was hard to even see it.

Minhyun could already see the sign. He was too far away to read it, but he knew what it said just as well as he knew what it was supposed to say.

NO TRES 

Dongho shifted into park. They were alone.

It was silent.

Then finally: “he’s not here,” Minhyun said.

All this for nothing. Their only lead for nothing. Minhyun clenched his fingers into the upholstery. This couldn’t be how it worked. Jonghyun couldn’t be truly gone.

“Let’s get out and check,” Aaron said. “Just in case.”

“You think he’s inside?” Minki asked.

“Can’t be,” Minhyun said. “He can’t spend six days in there.” They would have found Aaron’s car already anyway.

Minhyun had been so certain. It had felt so right that Jonghyun would come here if he wanted them to find him.

The door shut behind Aaron. Minhyun undid his seatbelt and shared a look with Dongho.

Outside, the fence loomed before them. Minhyun had almost expected it to look smaller than it once had, but it was still impressive.

Rust scratched at the pads of his fingers as Minhyun touched it. Jonghyun had loved this place so much.

“Hey, Minhyun!” Aaron’s voice jolted him from the memories. “Check this out.”

He was by the sign.

Aaron smiled grimly as Minhyun approached. “We were right,” he said. It didn’t sound celebratory. Minhyun looked at it more closely. There was red and white on the sign, but it wasn’t the normal spray paint and black letters on scratched gray metal.

The two papers had been taped on and fluttered lightly in the wind. Minhyun reached out with a shaking hand and pulled the left one off.

It was crumpled notebook paper, with a simple ‘Minhyun’ on the front. With little fanfare, Minhyun opened the paper.

“It’s an address.” Only an address. Jonghyun hadn’t even signed it.

“That’s what we get for waiting so long,” Dongho said.

“We’re lucky it’s still here.” Minhyun didn’t want to think about what would have happened if it had stormed.

“But we didn’t get here first,” Aaron said. Minhyun looked at the other note. There was no reason to take this one off before reading it. The three overlapped red ovals glared back at him, and in stark, black letters, it read: _We know_.

“What does _that_ mean?” Minhyun asked. “They know about Jonghyun?”

“About us looking for him too.” Minki swore quietly but emphatically. For the second time in one day, Minhyun looked around for someone who could be watching. Everything moved slightly in the breeze. Minhyun’s eyes jumped from moving branch to falling leaf but found no people.

They’d fruitlessly searched for others back when they’d found the spray paint too. Finally, they’d stumbled on a few beer cans and cigarette butts, and that had been that. Nothing else, ever.

Minhyun didn’t like the feeling of others being in this place now any more than he had back then.

“Should we go now?” Minki asked. His tone was still grim. He had brushed Minhyun off this morning, not going into detail on why he feared these so-called Unifiers, but Minhyun had a feeling that it was serious.

“We don’t know he was the one who wrote this,” Minhyun said. He traced a finger over his own name.

“He put it in the right spot,” Aaron said. Right over the remaining letters. NO TRES.

The closest thing they had to something that marked their ownership over this weird, nostalgic place.

“We’re going,” Minki said. It was very final.

Minhyun reached out and pulled the note off the sign, then crumpled it in his hand. Underneath was a messy squiggle of red spray paint, leaving the remaining letters of the sign illegible.

He touched Jonghyun’s note in his pocket.

“Let’s go,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyy it's the lead up to the midpoint


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence + injuries

The address took them to a small apartment complex with cracks in its concrete steps and chipped bricks making up its walls. Minhyun had a mask on, to hopefully decrease his chance of being recognized.

"This is the place," Aaron said, and gestured to his car, resting calmly in a parking spot. It didn't tell them anything about what had happened there, besides that whoever had parked it had left it the slightest bit crooked. They made their way to the streaky glass doors.

Jonghyun had given them an apartment number. It felt much too normal to simply call up to it, but without any other ideas, that was what they did. 

“Hello?” It wasn’t Jonghyun.

“We were given this address by a friend and told to meet him here,” Minki said.

“Hwang Minhyun?” 

They shared a look over the buzzer. “Who are you?” Minhyun asked. Obviously, there was no point in keeping his identity veiled. 

“You can come up. Jonghyun’s here.” 

“Is he okay? Who are you?”

Nothing. Dongho tried the door, and it opened. 

“Is this a…trap?” Minhyun asked. He couldn’t really imagine what they’d do up there. Not let them leave? Hurt them? It was hard to imagine any of that happening. Not to all four of them. Not in this small run-down place. 

But then again. The note left on Minhyun’s windshield. The note that was enough to drive Jonghyun to leave. Someone was ready for them here.

_We know._

“Should you wait down here?” Aaron asked him. “Just in case?” 

“I’m not doing that.” Minhyun had come too far to sit this out. If this was some sort of trap, he wasn't letting the others walk into it alone. 

And so they went up. The stairwell was sticky, only half a step down from being outright filthy. Minhyun stepped around shards of glass on one landing, and finally, they reached the right room. Before Minhyun could even debate whether to wait or how to enter or anything, Dongho knocked. 

It all seemed very unceremonial. They were about to succeed in finding Jonghyun. They didn't know what state he would be in. Minhyun tried to prepare.

They got their answers quickly, as Jonghyun opened the door. His hair was mussed, his eyes tired, but he looked leagues better than when Minhyun had last seen him. His hand wasn't bandaged any longer. 

You all came,” he said softly. It was jarring still, hearing his voice. Or maybe that was the way he addressed all of them but looked only at Minhyun. Something complicated swirled around in his eyes. 

“We were worried about you,” Minhyun said. 

Jonghyun nodded. He didn’t look overly happy to see them, and Minhyun recalled that this could be dangerous, right as the stranger from before spoke.

“Let them in, Jonghyunnie,” he said. He didn’t sound threatening, but his back was stiff, and Minhyun didn’t like how he was looking at him. “The last thing we need is one of my neighbors seeing the Prince in my doorway.” 

The studio apartment was spotless, but dingy in a way that wouldn’t wash out. Minhyun tried to breathe through the hot, stuffy air. An extra mattress on the ground had a sheet balled up on top of it. 

The stranger was around their age, and around Aaron’s height. He had these large, unnerving eyes that had since moved past Minhyun and onto Minki and Aaron. 

“Fuck, Jonghyun,” the man said. “You really knew how to make friends, didn’t you?” 

His eyes found Dongho. “I don’t recognize you, though.”

Jonghyun didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Dongho. He’s not magical.” So that was how you introduced someone to a magical rebel then. Was this man supposed to force Jonghyun to return to them? Had Jonghyun been threatened? Was that what seemed so wrong about all this?

“Who are you?” Aaron asked. Minhyun tried to ground himself in Aaron’s steady voice. 

“I’m Jonghyun’s best friend." He said it like he wanted them to challenge it, he said it like it was a lie. "Lee Taeyong." 

Liar. 

“I'm not sure if I’m more surprised you came here for Jonghyun, or that you two are willing to be in the same room as him at all.” He addressed Minhyun first, then Aaron and Minki. "He knows what you do, right?” Taeyong asked. Then, when they didn’t answer, Taeyong faced Minhyun. “Do you?” he demanded.

“They help people. It's a good thing."

“They smuggle kids out of your own country,” Taeyong snapped. Was it Minhyun's imagination, or was the heat growing worse? "Don't call that a good thing." 

He waited for Minhyun to respond, but Minhyun could hardly breathe in the burning apartment, let alone figure out what Taeyong was saying. Smuggling kids? Sweat ran down Minhyun's neck. 

“So you didn't know," Taeyong surmised. He faced Minki and Aaron. “Of course not. You might be sell-outs, but even you aren’t that bad.”

“We do what’s best for the kids,” Minki said. “That’s not selling out.”

“And the rest of us? Fuck Korea, I guess.” The air around Taeyong had gone wavy, like the air above a road in the middle of summer. It hurt to look at, but Minhyun didn't dare to look away.

“Taeyong…” Jonghyun said softly, but Taeyong didn’t back down. Something was wrong.

“Your way isn’t the only one,” Minki said. “And it hurts too many innocent people.”

“It’s not even my way,” Taeyong said. “But I still know that working with _him_ will never work.” Minhyun had never heard himself referred to with such hatred, but Taeyong's gaze was worse. A burst of heat blasted Minhyun, and he stepped back and collided into Dongho.

“Careful,” Dongho muttered, and stabilized him.

“His family are murderers, and he had his chance to do something good. His own best friend, and he didn’t even help him, or try to find him, or anything,” Taeyong said. Still he stared at Minhyun. “You’re lucky you’ve made it this far.”

“What are you talking about?” Minhyun demanded. Dongho’s hand tightened on his shoulder. That was a threat.

“You have no idea what happened to Jonghyun because of your family. He was your friend, and you left him to _die.”_

“Taeyong!” Jonghyun said again, this time louder. He stepped in between Minhyun and Taeyong as though a physical barrier. Sweat dampened the tips of his hair. 

Taeyong scoffed. "You really don't want me to say this. Not even after all he's done. You still want to go with him."

“Right now I want you to calm down and control your magic.”

“I told you I would tell him this. You know damn well I have to—and I want to. Don’t stop me.” Taeyong was shaking, a wildness in his eyes. Minhyun knew that look. He'd seen it in the mirror too many times. 

The sweltering heat had Minhyun's head buzzing. Air boiled in his lungs. Taeyong was going to hurt someone.

“Taeyong—” Jonghyun reached out for him, but was brushed off.

"We know," Taeyong said instead to Minhyun, and not even the heat could stop the shiver that ran down Minhyun's spine. 

"You know what?" Minhyun choked out.

"You're playing dumb?" Taeyong's hands curled into fists. Jonghyun forced himself in-between them. 

“Stay _back,_ Jonghyun." He raised his hands as though to block Jonghyun, a warning that Jonghyun didn't heed. 

“Taeyong, you have to cal—"

Taeyong swept Jonghyun out of the way. Jonghyun barely even stumbled from the slight force, but he still gasped and clutched his hand where Taeyong had touched him.

“Don’t hurt him!” Minhyun said, but before he could do anything else, Minki was moving forward.

“You need to control your magic, right now,” he said. “Let me help you.” 

Dongho pulled Minhyun back. “We need to get out of here,” he said, but Minhyun was transfixed as Minki approached Taeyong. He had his hands raised in the classic gesture of nonviolence.

“Don’t touch me,” Taeyong bit out. Minki wasn't even that close to him yet. “You don't know what you're talking about, get out of here.”

A wisp of smoke curled up from Minki's wrist. Before Minhyun realized what it meant, a flame rose from Minki's sleeve, and then it was racing up toward his shoulder, encompassing his arm. Minki cried out, and then Jonghyun was there. He smothered the flames with his own sleeve, his face contorting. The flames were burning him. The flames were burning both of them. 

“Minhyun, come on!” Dongho grabbed his shoulder and shoved him toward the door. But Jonghyun was still frantically patting at the flames, smoke rising around him. Minhyun could hear him choking on it.

“I have to help them!" Minhyun’s throat burned, his voice hoarse. His stomach turned from the smell of the burnt fabric, and worse.

Dongho didn’t let him make a choice, instead dragging him into the hallway. “They’ll come out in a minute,” Dongho was saying. “You can’t—you're the one making him angry. He'll hurt you next.” 

“—I can’t leave them—" Minhyun tried to look back, but Dongho was doing an excellent job of dragging him into the stairwell. 

“You’re not helping! You'll make things worse—and if you got hurt here…” 

“Minki’s already hurt!” Minhyun snapped. "Aaron's still in there!" He landed hard on the landing with the broken glass and dug his heels in. “I’m not leaving without them.”

Finally, Dongho hesitated, and Minhyun took the opportunity to dart past him, back up the stairs. Once again, Dongho was immediately behind him, but this time it wasn’t to stop him. Dongho wasn't one to abandon his friends either. 

Minhyun burst through the door of the landing just as Aaron and Minki came out. Aaron struggled to support both Minki and hold the door wide enough, as Minki clutched his arm to his chest. 

His shirt was black and torn, the skin under it a bright, terrifying red. The smell was nauseating, all-encompassing. Minhyun caught the door for him, and it was hot under his fingertips. 

Jonghyun didn’t follow them out. Minhyun could see him inside, his back to the door, his front to Taeyong. They were talking. 

“Dongho, go get water,” Aaron ordered as he helped Minki to the ground. Minhyun let the door close. Minki needed him. 

“We should go outside,” Dongho said. 

“No time.”

“It’s dangerous!” 

“Give me a minute!” Aaron snapped. “Dongho, go. Minhyun, get over here.” 

Minhyun crouched down, and he wanted to do something to help, but they didn’t even have medical supplies. “Aaron, his arm…” They needed an ambulance. They needed to get out of here. 

But Aaron wasn't calling anyone. He was working on the buttons of Minki’s shirt, slowly but methodically taking if off Minki’s injured arm. Tears were running down Minki’s face, his eyes red from the smoke. Minhyun gently grasped his uninjured hand and let Minki squeeze as hard as he wanted.

Finally, the shirt came off. The burns were an angry red, smeared with black. Minhyun couldn't look at them.

“Always gotta try and help, don’t you?” Aaron said. He shot for calm and collected, but his voice shook too much to make it. 

“You’re the one who’s supposed to be taking a break. You’ll get sick again.”

“Should have thought of that before you got hurt,” Aaron said. “Ready?” 

“Do it.” 

Aaron laid his palm directly on Minki's burned arm. Minki flinched but didn't move entirely away.

“What are you doing?” Minhyun demanded but got no answer. Aaron closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. His chest expanded, and expanded, and just when Minhyun thought it couldn’t possibly expand any further, Aaron let the air out. He opened his eyes right as the burns began to change. 

The red skin darkened, from tender to hardened like a scab, then it began to fade entirely. Minki dropped his head back against the wall, short pained gasps escaping him.

Aaron was healing him. When he lifted his hand, a few red patches was all that was left behind from Minki’s burns.

“How’s it feel?” he asked. His fingers gently supported Minki’s arm. Dongho came running in with a bottle of water, and Minki took it gratefully. Minhyun had a million questions, but his relief as Minki moved his previously injured arm overlaid them all. 

“Not bad." He took a long swallow of water and tipped his head back against the wall. "Not a hundred percent.”

See? And I didn’t even strain myself." 

“How do you feel?”

“If you’re okay, I’m perfect,” Aaron said. He helped Minki to his feet. “But you really do have to be more careful—”

“If I don’t, who will? He’s clearly never learned how to control it.” They'd moved on from the healing, clearly. Minhyun hadn't. He only then remembered to stand up. 

“Jonghyun’s still inside there, isn’t he?” Aaron said. He looked at the closed door. “Should we—”

“No,” Minhyun said. “It’s not safe here.” Healed or not, he wasn't going to wait for Taeyong to hurt someone else. 

Jonghyun had watched them leave, and he'd chosen to stay with Taeyong. 

No one challenged Minhyun. They left down the same stairs they'd come, out into the parking lot. Without Jonghyun, who they'd come for. They'd failed, and they'd gotten hurt, and they'd gotten healed. Maybe they'd been lucky. 

Once outside, Minhyun reached out and curled his fingers only inches short of touching Minki's arm. “Is it really okay?” he asked. It had happened so fast. “You can really—” Now he looked at Aaron. “But I thought… and the kids…”

“It’s not good that they know,” Aaron said. “It’s not something we tell people.”

“We'll have to go back and make sure everyone’s safe.” Minki seemed as grim as Aaron did. 

“So you really do...?” Minhyun couldn't seem to get words out for anything. “Is that what you didn’t want them to know? Or was it that you can…” 

Aaron shook his head. “That one’s less of a secret. Anyone I heal knows it’s me.”

“You didn’t tell me.” But Minhyun should have put it together. He had seen a lot of Minki’s magic in the past couple days. It was different. 

“You have to understand how we work, Minhyun,” Minki said. “Everyone knows what we do, but we don't get caught cause neither of us have magic that’s easily measured, and no one admits they witnessed us using magic, let alone that it’s Aaron who does it. They’ve wanted a solid reason to deport him for years.”

Right. One sign of magic and an unregistered citizen could get jail time. A permanent resident like Aaron would get sent back to where they’d come from. 

Minhyun had never thought about that too hard. He felt for Aaron, though. Minhyun knew a thing or two about how it felt to keep a secret that constantly threatened to tear you straight out of your life.

Aaron was brave for going anywhere near magic, let alone making such an elaborate plan to still help people. Braver than Minhyun, certainly.

And they were so loved by the community for what they did. Minhyun had seen firsthand how they had protected him. “And the kids?" Minhyun asked. "You really take them out of Korea?"

“We can talk about this somewhere else,” Minki interrupted. “Somewhere safer. Unless—are we waiting for Jonghyun?” 

“I hope so,” Aaron said. “He never gave me my keys.” He gestured at his red car, sitting wedged between a van and another car in the parking lot. 

Upstairs, Minhyun had accepted that this had been a failure, but was he really ready to give up on Jonghyun? He didn't want to, but he’d already given Jonghyun a mile, and Jonghyun had barely given him an inch back. What ground did Minhyun have to stand on?

The others were looking at him for the answer, and Minhyun realized he didn't want it to be like that.

"We came here together," he said. "Don't make me decide this alone." 

"I want to stay," Dongho said immediately, and of course he did. He'd wanted them all back together from the very start.

Minki and Aaron were more complicated. They shared a long look, and then Aaron spoke. "Having somewhere to go changes everything for magical kids," he said. "Minki and me--we try to do whatever we can to give them that place. Training them, giving them a place to hide. Getting them out of here, if we need to. Jonghyun's not a kid, but if we leave now, we all know where he'll have to go back to."

The Unifiers gave lost kids a place to go, and values to buy into. Even Minhyun had spent years floating around, trying to find something like that. A reason why bad things happened. People who understood. It couldn't be simple for Jonghyun to turn away from what he had found, and Minhyun didn't want to give him any reason to change his mind.

Things would be different this time. Minhyun wouldn't go in blind, or naively trusting. If Jonghyun wanted to stay, he had to tell them his secrets. Minhyun wanted him to come back, but he needed someplace to stand on. "Let's wait," he said. 

"Good," Minki answered.

They didn’t even have to wait for long. 

Jonghyun snuck through the door so quietly Minhyun nearly missed it. His face was still red, but he seemed no worse off than he'd been before. He tossed Aaron’s keys to him without a warning, and Aaron fumbled with them before ultimately needing to pick them up off the ground. 

“Are you okay?” Jonghyun asked Minki, but Minki waved the question off. 

“What about you?” he asked instead. “You got burned too.”

“I’ve had worse.” 

“He’s hurt you before?” Minhyun asked. He still didn't understand who Taeyong was in all this. Why had Jonghyun been sent to his house? If he'd hurt Jonghyun before, how could he call himself his friend?

“I know he doesn’t want to hurt me,” Jonghyun said, but he was walking so widely around what he wanted to say that Minhyun didn’t know what he meant. He seemed to realize that himself. "It's complicated."

“Sign it to me,” Minhyun said. “What you actually want to say. Dongho and I can help you if you don’t remember.” Before Jonghyun had time to respond, Minhyun went on, "But let's get out of here first. We'll talk somewhere safer." 

“I need to tell you something,” Jonghyun said. 

“Tell me in the car."

“I think you might change your mind about me coming once I tell you.” So it was something bad. Minhyun wasn't totally surprised. Taeyong had started to say it, after all.

“If you come with us now, then you have to tell us what’s going on,” Minhyun said. “No more secrets. I don’t care if it takes you a week to sign all of it. But if you tell me everything, I won’t turn you away. No matter what it is. Deal?” He wanted to give Jonghyun somewhere to go, he wanted to find somewhere for himself in the process.

Jonghyun nodded.

“No, say it. If you know it’s true, then it’s a good thing I’ll believe it too.”

“Deal,” Jonghyun said softly, and the terrifying thing about Jonghyun's magic was that even though Minhyun was utterly aware of it, that didn't stop the flood of relief that Jonghyun agreed with him. It was a good deal. He should agree with it. 

But Jonghyun went on, “I still think I should tell you now,” Jonghyun said. “Taeyong was supposed to but…” He trailed off, then found new strength when he spoke again, “He was right, though. You need to know this. Even if it’s… not good.”

Minhyun braced himself. Words spoken by Jonghyun hit harder than anything.

“We know,” Jonghyun said. “About your magic. For a long time now.”

The words wouldn’t compute right in Minhyun’s head, but he didn't doubt Jonghyun for a second. “You told them?” 

“They've known for years now. Your magic is loud, and you’re in public all the time.”

_We know._ Minhyun had been so certain that that note was about Jonghyun.

“How many?” Minhyun demanded. He couldn't let more people knew. If he could find them--but no, there was no way. Minhyun couldn't play damage control for this. Too many people knew, and these people hated him. 

Jonghyun didn't even try to answer. 

“It’s over then,” Minhyun said. “Isn’t it?” Everything he’d been trying to do… The life he’d tried to protect. This was the end. 

_They knew._

"I’m sorry," Jonghyun signed, and sign language had always been their thing, and Minhyun had always found some kind of comfort in it, but not this time.

Minhyun had spent the last days, months, years protecting a secret that could destroy him. He’d come so far in the past few days; he’d truly gotten better at controlling his magic. And for what, if people had known from only looking at him. If his magic had betrayed his efforts so quickly and without him ever even realizing. 

Minhyun had worked so hard. And now... He'd known there was some plan behind this, some reason for the notes, for Jonghyun's sudden return. Minhyun had known that, but he hadn't expected this. Detective Moon had been right; Minhyun might not have been attacked that night, but he was at the center of this. They were targetting him.

Minhyun had never had a secret at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof it's been 5 billion years and i still am not a huge fan of this chapter but its as good as it's gonna get... i had lots of life sandwiched into the past months (i graduated university!! i have a job!! i moved!!) but now that things are more stable, with any luck, updates should flow a lil better :)
> 
> anyway, happy midpoint!


	13. Ghostly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I thought this was over,” Jonghyun signed, which didn’t really make sense. But then he motioned between them, and made a circle to include the others in it too. “That we’d never get anything like it back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an update?? after only a week?? what an occasion
> 
> also im now overprimrose on here!!

As children, they had had a thousand reasons to fall apart. They’d defended Minhyun together, and then forgiven Minhyun together. They’d learned sign language with Dongho and his brother. They’d carved out little niches for themselves in a world that appeared to be against them: a broom closet, a forest, sign language done quickly behind a teacher’s back. 

They'd created their bubbles, and they'd known they wouldn't last forever. They'd just never expected they'd lose one of their own in the process.

Losing Jonghyun had left its mark on them. From Minhyun and Aaron, who believed their emerging magic meant the end of their dreams to Minki, who’d always enjoyed helping people but hadn’t realized the cost of failure.

Dongho's mark wasn't as obvious as the others, but it was there. He was the one Jonghyun first confided in, and the one who'd convinced him to tell the others, because Dongho had believed there was nothing the five of them couldn't solve together.

Even without them, Dongho went on. He found new goals, and he pursued them. He shot a little lower, stayed a little safer, moved with the caution of someone who’d been bitten by the world, but he’d still moved. 

And somehow, when he saw the five of them together again, he still believed they could solve anything together. That was how he took in Minhyun's ashen face and understood in an instant that to him, people knowing about his magic was synonymous with the end of the world. Dongho told them to get into the car. He knew a place they could talk about this. 

Minki drove Aaron’s car, and after about fifty uncertain glances at Minhyun, Jonghyun went with him. Dongho drove Minhyun’s car, with Minhyun shotgun, Aaron in the back. Neither of them spoke. Dongho could hear Minhyun's thoughts whirring around, as Aaron slumped against the window. Aaron and Minki had told Dongho months ago that they planned on a break soon, because Aaron's normal burn out from healing had worsened into him being perpetually ill. Thankfully, this time he only seemed tired. 

Understanding the silence didn't make it easier. At a red light, Dongho smacked Minhyun's shoulder lightly. "Play some music or something," he said. 

Minhyun's choice was slow and sad, and Dongho wouldn't stand for it. "Put something better on," he said, and knew he was getting somewhere when Minhyun looked offended. 

The garden Dongho brought them to was small, not far from Seoul’s outer limits, and it was the first place he’d worked once he’d graduated. He’d applied for the job because it was open, because it seemed simple, because the ad was looking for someone capable of carrying twenty-five kilograms at once, and Dongho could do that. 

Jonghyun had used to tell Dongho that he'd end up in a flower shop someday. 

Here, he'd learned the outer limits of the garden were not truly the edge of the garden. The garden included everything a person could see: on one side, the heavy glass skyscrapers of Seoul, on the other three, tall forested ridges, and the mountains behind them. If the horizon didn’t work in harmony with the garden, then your garden hadn’t reached its potential. 

Dongho took them there, and more specifically, he took them to his favorite pavilion. It was small for the five of them, and enclosed by the thick wisteria vines and their heavy strands of purple blossoms. Bees visited the flowers and investigated the pavilion’s wood for a place to make their homes. 

It was an overcast day, one of Dongho’s favorites, because only people who had never worked outside preferred the cloudless blue sky and glaring sun. Few other visitors ever came to the garden, which was beginning to fall into disarray anyway. Growing shrubs blocked the view of the hillside.

Dongho picked a splinter of wood from the bench and looked around at his oldest friends. They’d settled into the garden well—though Aaron was eyeing one of the big, fuzzy bees fearfully. 

This was Dongho’s offer, the closest he could give them to a window into himself. 

Now it was Jonghyun’s turn.

His way of speaking was an odd, faltering hybrid. He used an amalgam of signs and spoken words and paused while he tried to remember signs or find words or figure out how to possibly say what he needed to. Occasionally, Dongho or Minhyun helped him remember something, or he started signing something and wiped it all away and started over. 

His story went like this: 

The most damning thing about living in a bad situation for a long while was that sometimes there were less bad times. Sometimes—sometimes Jonghyun could look back at it all almost fondly. Nostalgically. He was the product of these experiences. They had built him. 

Surely—surely that meant it wasn’t all as bad as he had thought? And as the years passed, his anger had too. 

In his darker moments, Jonghyun thought he was an expert at not caring about things that mattered. 

He’d learned how to do that when he was sixteen, and they’d left him to die. 

The dorms were tiny, with two beds stacked on top of each other. One window. White walls made of concrete blocks covered by some sort of plaster, rough to the touch. 

Jonghyun arrived first. He stood there for a while, until the fluorescent light burned his eyes, and he turned it off. In the darkness, he could no longer see his bag, the hasty thing his parents had packed for him when he hadn’t been allowed to return home. 

It had been searched thoroughly; he had been searched thoroughly. The cold floor stung his bare feet. 

In the darkness, the only light came from a small window. It was near level with the top bunk bed, and Jonghyun wanted it. He dragged his blanket from his bag and left the sheet he’d pulled out with it on the floor. The plastic-coated mattress crunched under him. Jonghyun put his head to it and watched the sky. 

The other boy came later that night. They spent a while staring at each other. The boy's eyes glittered in the dark. Jonghyun turned back the other way.

The moonlight woke him. Jonghyun wasn’t a picky sleeper; he rolled over and resettled. The new boy sat cross-legged in the rectangle of cold light brought in by the window. He was a pale, gaunt creature. 

“It’s too dark,” he said. 

“Up here is bright.”

The ghost of a smile passed the boy’s lips. “Are you offering me to trade?” 

“Come up here and see it.”

The boy didn’t comment on the lack of a sheet, and Jonghyun didn’t offer him a corner of his blanket. They faced the window. 

“It opens,” the boy said, and opened it himself when Jonghyun didn’t react. The late fall air was chilly and refreshing. Jonghyun filled his lungs to the brim, only to regret it as his chest seized up, and the air left him in hacking coughs. He should have known better. The coughing had started a couple days ago. 

“Are you all right?” the stranger asked. Jonghyun hadn't been asked that in ages, not even by the doctor, who'd asked him every question he could when Jonghyun had no answers to give him.

“I bet we could pop this.” Jonghyun pressed his fingers to the screen. “We could have a way out.” They were on the ground floor. 

“You haven’t seen the fence yet. It’s not a way out.”

“Still.” Jonghyun pressed harder, then let go. The screen bounced in its frame. Jonghyun’s hand was trembling, his whole body shivering so wildly the bed shook. Finally, the boy closed the window. 

“So what’s wrong with you?” he asked. 

"What?”

“Something’s wrong with you,” the boy insisted. “They put you with me, and I’m dangerous. What did you do?” 

The clinic had been freezing. They'd made Jonghyun change into a pale yellow hospital gown, and the doctor looked at the bruise-like marks that kept appearing on Jonghyun's body. _From the looks of it, you’ve been using magic constantly. If you want to get better, you have to stop._

“Nothing,” Jonghyun said.

 _I'm not trying to use it,_ Jonghyun had said, and he'd been prepared to insist it if the doctor didn't believe him, but the doctor sighed.

_I was afraid you'd say that._

“What’s your magic do?” 

“I don’t know,” Jonghyun said. 

“Then why?” the boy asked. 

“They think I’m going to die.”

The boy’s startled face swam before Jonghyun’s tired eyes. 

“Fuck,” he said, which was as good a response as any in Jonghyun's book. 

“Why are you dangerous?” 

“My magic is”—he waved a hand around—“I could hurt someone. They’ve had me live alone for ages but I guess…” He eyed Jonghyun more closely. It didn’t feel like he was investigating him for signs of being about to keel over, which was nice. “I’m Lee Taeyong,” the boy said. “I’ll try not to kill you early.” 

Finally, Jonghyun cracked a smile. “Kim Jonghyun. I’ll do my best not to die.” 

They shook hands on it. 

Six weeks later, and Taeyong was keeping up his side of their deal much better than Jonghyun. Taeyong had figured out how to pop the screen off the window, so now Jonghyun had an escape route in case of an emergency. Taeyong had set their wardrobe on fire, and now they only had three usable school uniforms between them.

For Jonghyun, sleep had changed from a welcome reprieve to an autonomous being. Nonnegotiable darkness. Taeyong feared he'd sleep through a fire. Their escape window was useless if Jonghyun couldn't wake up. 

Twelve hours. Taeyong woke him to eat, but Jonghyun quickly learned that he wouldn't push it if Jonghyun told him to go away. Sixteen hours, and shook awake by a frazzled Taeyong desperately asking if Jonghyun was hurt, and a charred corner of a blanket. Jonghyun had assured him he was okay, but Taeyong wouldn't let go of him. He was shaking, tears in his eyes, and Jonghyun had known he should comfort him, but instead, he'd tipped his head onto Taeyong's shoulder and slept again. 

When awake, he’d fight a haze that never left. His vision would darken whenever he stood. If he tried to go to class, he’d fall asleep at his desk. The all-encompassing loss of consciousness had stolen his dreams away with it, and the dream-like haze he faced while awake was only distinguishable because Jonghyun was pretty certain you couldn't be exhausted within a dream. 

One day, one of the rare days Jonghyun forced himself to attend classes, he'd mixed up the dates. He'd walked down the empty halls, into an empty classroom, and he sat there for over ten minutes before he realized he was alone. Jonghyun had looked around, had stood up again. He was alone, an empty school, a surreal school. Jonghyun wondered if he would know if he'd already died, or if he'd slip from alive into being a ghost and walking these same halls. He brushed his hand against the wall and wondered if that was enough to know for sure, then wondered if being a ghost would really be all that bad, because he wouldn't have to wake up for pesky things like using the bathroom, or eating. 

Jonghyun spent his rare moments of lucidity utterly terrified of the ghost he'd become, dead or alive. 

It wasn't long after that that Taeyong found the letter. He waited until one of Jonghyun's better days to show him. 

I KNOW WHO CAN HELP YOU, the letter read. The ‘you’ was nearly illegible because of the three red ovals drawn crudely across the paper, but the address was clear. It was also over the fence.

“What are we going to do?” Taeyong asked. It was the first question he’d asked Jonghyun in a while, because ghosts couldn't feel.

It would be a lot of effort, getting there. And for what? No one had signed the note, and Jonghyun didn’t believe in miracles. He could see that Taeyong wanted to try it, though, and Jonghyun might not have noticed much recently, but he knew the only reason he'd made it this far was thanks to Taeyong, fires or not. 

“We'll climb the fence,” Jonghyun said. 

When they reached the address, Park Sihwan opened the door. 

Those memories, like all the others of that time, were hazy and indistinct, but Jonghyun liked to think he’d known, somewhere deep inside, that he’d just met the man who would give him a future.

“He saved my life,” Jonghyun said quietly. He’d gradually been speaking less and less, and Minhyun hadn’t been prepared for his voice. It took Minhyun even longer to realize Jonghyun was justifying something, because to Minhyun this man seemed like a hero, Unifier or not.

“You started working for them,” Minki said. He was looking at Jonghyun like he was feeling the same all-encompassing exhaustion Jonghyun had described in his past self. This was what had happened to the boy he hadn’t saved. He'd been no better prepared to hear it than Minhyun. 

“I stopped speaking,” Jonghyun corrected. “I got better. Sihwan hyung couldn’t tell what my voice did without me using it, and I was too sick then.” A big, fluffy bee was crawling on the wooden floorboards in front of Jonghyun. “The meetings were later.” 

THEN

The meetings were nice. Gatherings of magical people who looked nothing like the tired students Jonghyun was used to. Adults who'd made lives for themselves. People in control of their magic, who used it sometimes purely because magic could do fun things. 

Taeyong liked them less than Jonghyun. He latched on to all the safety and routine he could twist out of life, and these monthly meetings where they talked about goals and actions and the faults of the country that had failed each and every one of them did not fit into that safety. 

He’d come for Jonghyun, though. He would do anything for Jonghyun. 

And Taeyong’s presence was necessary, because Jonghyun couldn’t speak, and because even his classmates knew him as the kid with unreadable magic who’d only ever made a scene by nearly dying. The kid whose grades were abysmal because he’d either missed class or couldn’t ask questions, and yet passed every time because he’d speak to those teachers after class—like, actually speak to them—and sometime during the meeting, the teacher decided Jonghyun deserved to pass, despite the lacking effort. 

And so they went on, and scraped out some friendships, and when Park Sihwan approached Jonghyun because he wanted his opinion on a man who attended their meetings, Jonghyun was happy to find he had the opinion Sihwan was looking for. People who didn't speak tended to be great listeners. 

The questions became more frequent. Does so-and-so fit this particular mission? Can she be trusted to be brought in more fully? Helping Sihwan felt like a more worthy thank you than anything Jonghyun could speak aloud. 

And one day… one day, he approached Jonghyun and asked who would best fit a mission that involved skirting security cameras and climbing a building to plant a bug in an office of a local campaign manager, who was running the campaign for a man who intended to crack down even more strongly on magical people. 

The person would need to be quick, Sihwan had said, and unnoticeable.

Jonghyun volunteered himself.

NOW

“You should tell Minhyun what it is they want to do,” Minki said.

“You didn’t?” Jonghyun asked aloud, most likely because Minki and Aaron had both struggled the most to follow along with Jonghyun's story, frequently having to ask for clarification.

“This is your story.”

“They didn’t tell me all of it,” Jonghyun signed. “In case I was arrested. It’s protocol.”

“It’s an end goal, not the steps to get there. You know it,” Minki said. “In a couple days they’re going to start making demands from Minhyun, either directly or through you. He’s got to know what your end goal is.”

Jonghyun had been far from his comfort zone for most of this retelling, but now he was fidgety and uncertain, reluctant to convey the words he had to. Minhyun was eyeing him more carefully now.

“A place for magical people to be safe.” 

“It has to be more than that,” Minhyun said. 

“A separate place,” Jonghyun clarified. “Only for magical people, with a government that supports them.” 

“As in, split the country?" Minhyun asked. "A civil war?"

“It wouldn’t take that.” Jonghyun’s signs were hesitant. It was impossible to tell whether he’d forgotten to add that that was what the Unifiers believed, or if his own beliefs were still hanging on.

"Jonghyun, the last time Korea was divided, two and a half million people died.”

“It would mean war,” Minki butted in. “Other countries would get involved—and where would the lines be drawn? What cities do you expect to become only magical? There would have to be mass movements of people and families split up. What happens if a magical person has a nonmagical kid?”

“I don’t know!” Jonghyun’s signs were fast and rough. “Why do I need all the answers? I'm allowed to be angry. They—” He went on, too quickly even for Minhyun. 

“I didn’t get the last part," Minki said. 

Jonghyun’s shoulders slumped. His eyes were hollow now, the anger gone as quickly as it had come. “They left me to die,” he repeated. “Why don’t I get to be angry?” 

He wanted something from Minki. Some truth or maybe something tangible for him to hold onto, but Minhyun doubted even Minki knew what it was. What they had done to Jonghyun was monstrous. There was no redeeming it, and no forgiving it. 

“Are you angry?” Minhyun asked, because people driven by righteous anger became people driven by hate. Jonghyun was many things, and Minhyun was trying hard to see him as he was now and not as the kid he’d been, but he still couldn’t find that kind of hate. 

“I wanted to be,” Jonghyun signed. “Everyone thought I was, and meanwhile I…” Jonghyun wiped the signs away as though to erase that trail of thought. Minhyun's heart ached. 

“Jonghyun?” he asked. “Why did you come back?”

THEN

There was nothing special about the day Jonghyun finally let his past with Minhyun spill out. He’d long-graduated by that point, and he and his closest friends had stopped by a bar. Jonghyun was a couple drinks in, but nothing ridiculous. A soccer game playing on the screens; Korea up two-to-zero, and Jonghyun had to lean in close to hear his friends over the cheering. 

Taeyong was beside him, and so was Yoohyeon, with her red hair that desperately needed a break from the dyeing. Daehyun and Youngjae had also come, even though Youngjae disliked drinking.

The chatter rose as the television transitioned to commercials, and a clip of Minhyun came on the screen, something promotional about a new community arts center that had opened nearby. Minhyun had spoken there a few weeks ago. 

Conversation twisted and turned, and Jonghyun’s fingers tightened around his glass. Yoohyeon caught him watching Minhyun and raised an eyebrow. "There's better people to ogle," she said. "Trust me."

Jonghyun planned to only half-smile and let it go, because when you didn't speak you got used to being misunderstood, but these were the people closest to him, and suddenly it felt like they didn't know him at all. Suddenly, Jonghyun couldn't stand it.

“I knew the Prince,” he said. His voice died midway through, as everyone's attention jumped to him. He had to clear his throat to go on. “We grew up together.” 

It was like Jonghyun shattered the world. 

“Dude,” Daehyun said. “Dude, you can talk.” 

“I’m pretty sure he knew that already,” Youngjae, who was always down to fight with Daehyun, shot back, but he was wide-eyed and desperate to cover his own shock.

Jonghyun’s face burned. He didn’t want to talk about his voice. 

“I always figured you, like, had no tongue or something,” Daehyun said. “Seriously, man.” 

“You’re an idiot,” Youngjae said. “If you want to talk and give us all heart attacks then you should, Jonghyun.” 

Jonghyun didn't want to talk about him; he wanted to talk about Minhyun. As with most things, Taeyong came through. 

“You knew the Prince?” Taeyong asked. His voice was weird. Jonghyun shared most everything with him, but he hadn’t shared this. Jonghyun would apologize later.

“He was one of my best friends,” Jonghyun said softly. “But no one knew he was the Prince back then.” 

“He lied to his friends?” Daehyun shot a look at the TV like Minhyun was still on it. “Why am I not surprised. Asshole.” 

"It was complicated," Jonghyun said. "He... wasn't a bad friend." Jonghyun was running out of words. 

"You don't have to explain if it's hard," Yoohyeon said, though she looked the most curious.

"I want you to know," Jonghyun said. His friends had long-accepted that he held his secrets close, and didn't push. Now, Jonghyun basked in letting his friends know a secret.

He'd forgotten how comforting it was to feel seen.

On some level, Jonghyun had known that there would be no turning back after he mentioned Minhyun’s name, and it only took a couple weeks before Sihwan called Jonghyun to his office. The place was cozy, with a comfortable leather seat opposite Sihwan's desk. Jonghyun had never seen him without his laptop open on the desk, always at work, but Sihwan had also never turned him away, even when it took Jonghyun ages to say everything. On principle, Jonghyun didn’t speak unless necessary, but Sihwan was an exception. 

“Jonghyun-ah,” Sihwan said. “Was this you?” He had an article pulled up on his laptop. An old one.

MAGIC DISCOVERED AT PRINCE MINHYUN’S SCHOOL  
Are We as Well-Protected as the Government Says? 

“I always wondered how you ended up here,” Sihwan admitted. “Normally I wouldn’t ask, but…”

“They measured magic at the school and found some. I told them it was me.” Jonghyun didn’t like talking about this stuff. It was ancient history. He was past it. When he looked back on it, he knew he should feel something, but the feelings just didn't come. 

“That wouldn’t have picked up your magic. It couldn’t have been you.”

“Then someone else was there too, maybe. I don't know.” Jonghyun liked to feel happy when he should, and sad, when he should do that. He knew what it was like to be a ghost, and it wasn’t the pain of nearly dying that haunted him so many years after, it was the apathy. Jonghyun's parents had written him a hasty letter, the best they could do before Jonghyun was gone, and it took Jonghyun months to bother to read it.

“I’m sorry for bringing it all up again, but I have something to ask you, and I have information about the Prince that you might want to know. Do you want to hear it?” 

Sihwan saw straight through Jonghyun, but this time he was seeing wrong. He was asking Jonghyun for permission because this information would hurt, but Jonghyun wasn’t preserving his nostalgia. He was fighting off the uncaring.

Whatever this was, he wouldn’t like it. He’d hate it. He’d feel sad or angry or something fuller than this. 

“Tell me,” he said, and for once didn’t notice he’d slipped, not even when the answer fell quickly from Sihwan's lips. 

“He’s magical. We’ve confirmed it.”

Jonghyun went cold, then hot, then light-headed from the changing temperatures. Anger bubbled up, and he grasped onto it tightly, because already, his mind was filtering through how Minhyun must have taken this. Jonghyun had been there when Minhyun’s uncle was cast aside by his family, and Minhyun was pushed up on a pedestal as a distraction, and a replacement. He understood the stakes here. 

Jonghyun also understood why Sihwan had started this conversation with Jonghyun's own history. Sihwan had known there was someone else. If Jonghyun would have bothered to think more about it, he probably would have known too.

Jonghyun had taken the fall for someone else. He didn't care all that much about that part, but it stung that Minhyun had used that second change to publicly condemn magic again and again. The anger was solidifying now. How many more kids had ended up like him because of Minhyun? 

Sihwan's eyes pierced him. He'd had a plan, Jonghyun realized, and Jonghyun might have just changed everything. “If you went to the Prince, would he let you in?” Sihwan asked.

“Yes,” Jonghyun said, and Sihwan believed him, because Jonghyun had said it, but also because he knew better than anyone that Jonghyun didn’t take his words lightly. 

NOW

Jonghyun had returned for them. Minhyun couldn't find it in himself to feel shocked, but loops of betrayal wrapped tight around his heart and squeezed. Then it squeezed tighter, because Minhyun had feared for eight years that what happened to Jonghyun was his fault, and it was. 

Jonghyun was looking at him, and Minhyun couldn't stand being seen. Abruptly, he stood up, and walked away. They'd passed a thin, bendy path on their way to the pavilion, and Minhyun followed it now. It was lined with yellow flowers. The setting sun stung his eyes. 

Minhyun didn't get far before he realized he didn't have anywhere to go, and he didn't spend long in one place before he heard footsteps behind him. "Minki?" he guessed.

"Wrong," Jonghyun said. He stopped right next to Minhyun and lowered himself to the grass. Minhyun joined him, and together, they faced the sun. Jonghyun pulled out little bits from the grass.

"Should you be doing that in a garden?" Minhyun said.

"Are you gonna stop me?" Jonghyun had the gall to smile. Minhyun wrapped his arms around his knees and set his chin on his kneecaps. 

"You don't seem angry," he said. He twisted his head to see Jonghyun better, in case he wanted to sign the answer. 

"Taeyong thinks I'm crazy for doing this," Jonghyun signed. He specified 'this' by motioning between them. "Tell me it's right to give you another chance, and that you're not going to keep on making things worse."

"I owe you everything," Minhyun said. "You're the reason I even had the chance to hide for this long." 

"It's bigger than me. And I've done things that you'd think were awful. You can't pretend I haven't."

"I want to make things better," Minhyun admitted. "But I don't know how yet."

"Tell the country you're magical, and not get banished for it. Everyone knows you. They love you.” Now there was some sort of fire in Jonghyun’s eyes, an extra strength to his signs. He was so close to Minhyun. “You could change everything.”

“They'd hate me if they knew I was magical.”

“The last time a member of the royal family was found to be magical, they brought you out.” 

“My Mother would banish me too. It would disappoint the country maybe, but they wouldn’t miss me.”

“You aren’t listening,” Jonghyun signed. “It’s not about what happens to you. It’s about what happens to the country. The last time this happened, you stabilized it, and you’ve spent years condemning magic. If it turns out you’re a liar...” 

Now Minhyun understood. “It would be chaos.” 

“Enough to splinter the country into two.”

It wasn’t that simple, but the implications were severe enough.

"If we're together on this, we don't want that to happen," Jonghyun signed. "But hiding your magic isn't a solution either."

Minhyun had fought for eight years to hide his magic. He'd isolated himself, and kept running and running and going nowhere. Jonghyun was right. "I still don't understand what changed for you," Minhyun said. "You came back for them. You owe them your life. Why would you turn your back on them?"

Jonghyun took time to think before answering. Minhyun’s heart raced. 

“I thought this was over,” Jonghyun signed, which didn’t really make sense. But then he motioned between them, and made a circle to include the others in it too. “That we’d never get anything like it back.”

He’d thought that, but he’d asked after the others so quickly that Minhyun had tracked them all down, no matter the time that had passed. 

But Jonghyun wasn’t done. “I thought so much about what happened, and all the things that could have been different. And I thought I’d thought about it every way you could, because I couldn’t move on. Recovering took me so long.”

Yeah, Minhyun knew how that felt. 

Jonghyun paused before his next words, one hand playing with the hem of his shirt. “I got inside and could do what they wanted me to because you did too. You thought about me, after I was gone, and you had even fewer answers than I did. You thought you abandoned me. I was here trying so hard to blame you for everything, and you’d been blaming yourself for years." 

"You told me you didn't blame me, even though you knew."

"The more I thought about it, the more I realized that even if I'd known it was you, I would have done the same thing back then."

“I wouldn’t have let you.”

“Still. You remember, don’t you? What it was like?” 

Yeah, Minhyun remembered the five of them, and Minhyun remembered the two of them too. They’d danced around each other for what left like decades as teenagers. The will-they-won't-they he and Jonghyun had been trapped in. At one point in his life, Minhyun had been obsessed with the concept of taking Jonghyun’s first kiss. 

Back then it had seemed exorbitantly important, even life-threatening. Back then he’d thought no one could ever take Jonghyun away from him.

“Things were so simple then,” Jonghyun signed. “It would be nice if they were like that again someday.”

Simple, yes. But that wasn’t all they’d had. “I can’t promise simple,” Minhyun said. “But I need to get to Busan in the next couple days. I’ve got an apartment there—it’s my favorite place to stay, and if you want…”

Jonghyun’s lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. “Did you think I did all of this just so I could leave again?”

"Good," Minhyun said. "I mean, I'm glad. That you want to come."

Jonghyun laughed, tame and quiet and real. Minhyun reveled in the sound, then reveled in how much Jonghyun could say without words, as Jonghyun slid his hand closer, and crossed his pinky over Minhyun's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we've reached that regularly scheduled point of a longfic where i get to feel super clever bc the title finally makes sense, but it's also the regularly scheduled point of a longfic where i question everything i write so i hope jonghyun's motivations and everything make sense
> 
> catch me on twitter now @turtledovejr and on curiouscat as overprimrose


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wasn’t here to be Minhyun. He was here as the Prince, the representative of the country. Even if the shoes didn’t fit anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another weekly update wth

Once, stepping into the shoes of a Prince had felt too big. Now, Minhyun couldn’t tell what they were, but they weren’t right. He had done a good job of running through the motions the past few days: the fact that he’d managed to schedule a seemingly impromptu appearance at all spoke for that. But now the moment of truth, and Minhyun had done nothing wrong and felt like nothing was right.

He was smiling. He was dressed in expensive clothes that would pass for street casual-but-better if not too closely scrutinized. The coffee shop was a hangout for local university students, the kind with a chalk menu above the counter and the art of a local student artist hung for sale on the walls. Minhyun’s security guard—a member of the local police force—was sitting at the table next to Minhyun’s, which had been subtly reserved for him. 

In the far back, Jonghyun had a novel open on the table in front of him. He cosplayed a university student well, his feet crossed under his chair, his striped t-shirt tucked into his jeans. They’d bought him some new clothes the other day. He wore them nicely.

While Minhyun had been focused on Jonghyun, the students had had time to notice him. A strange hush dropped over the bustle as voices dropped to whispers, broken by the hiss of the espresso machine. An old woman took one look at him and collected the papers spread around her table in a single swoop. A few seconds later, she was out the door.

A professor, maybe. Minhyun tended to stir these places up, and she likely hadn’t wanted to try and work through it. 

Unless it was something totally different. Minhyun had ignored the warning bells ringing in his ears valiantly so far, the ones screaming about how someone in this very room could tell Minhyun was magical, and Minhyun was one step nearer to losing control of what no longer counted as a secret.

Did the fit of the shoes change, or had he only run out of tissue paper to stuff into the toes? 

No one in the crowd had approached him yet, but a couple girls were giggling and nudging another toward him. Minhyun shot for a welcoming smile, and it fell onto his face like a well-worn habit. He’d done this so many times.

The girl approached him. Minhyun noticed absently that she was pretty. Her friends were still giggling. 

“Can I take a photo with you?” she asked. It was far from a rare request; Minhyun operated in the blur between celebrity and political figure. He’d made Jonghyun walk in considerably before him today, because one too many magazines had speculated about his love life, and the last thing Minhyun needed was even closer scrutiny.

Minhyun smiled for the photo and wished her a nice day. She waved her phone triumphantly as she approached her friends, already seeming to forget that Minhyun’s attention might still be on her. 

The fun part about these days was that even in a sea of similarities, each day proved unique. Minhyun never knew who he’d encounter, and he fluidly walked the line between speaker and listener, celebrity and policy-maker. This had been his pride and joy, and for the first time in a while, Minhyun reconnected with that side of himself. 

He could catch students taking photos of him from the corner of his eyes, and he smiled for a couple of the more blatant ones. The buzz decreased as time went on, and the students settled. Minhyun answered a few questions about education policy and listened to some concerns about various bills currently in Parliament. In between, he stole looks at Jonghyun, who seemed content in reading the book he’d chosen. 

He must have been watching Jonghyun too intently, because he missed a woman approaching him. “Can I join you?” she asked. Minhyun hurriedly motioned her into the other seat. It was clear she wasn’t only here for a photo. One hand brushed her hair behind her ear, then freed it again. The hand hovered nervously, like it might be needed again. 

“What is your name?” he asked, trying to put her at ease.

“I have a question,” she said abruptly. She sounded young. Minhyun smiled reassuringly. 

“What do you think about how Human Rights Watch says we’re violating the human rights of magic users.” Her voice shook, then hardened, and Minhyun realized he’d woefully misidentified the woman’s intentions. 

He’d been attacked for policies before at these kinds of events—especially at universities, where radical liberalism was common, but Minhyun had never been asked about magic. Luckily, his training kicked in, and a non-answer spilled from his lips. “We do our best to ensure the safety of all people—”

“My brother’s magical.” Her hand tightened on the edge of the wooden table. Her phone screen lit up on the top of it, but she didn’t look down. “They found out when he was a kid, and they took him away. Since when is taking kids from their parents ever a good idea?” 

“I’m sorry you experienced that,” Minhyun said, and he meant it, because he’d experienced that too. He knew how badly it hurt better than most. 

“He was fifteen,” she said. “It destroyed our family. When he finally was able to come back, I had to tell him our parents split up, and he said it was his fault. You did everything but beat it into him that everything that happened to him was his fault.” 

The royal ‘you.’ In a situation like this Minhyun wasn’t an individual, he was the entire government. 

“He’s the smartest person I’ve ever met, and couldn’t even get into college because his schooling was sh—was, was really bad. How is that fair?” 

Her voice was rising. Minhyun had to end this conversation before anyone could overhear. Heads were turning. In the far book, Jonghyun lowered his book.

“Do you know anyone who’s magical?” she demanded. 

Minhyun hesitated. A piece of him wanted to tell her yes. Because Jonghyun would want him too. Because he understood where she was coming from. Hell, he probably understood better than most.

But he wasn’t here to be Minhyun. He was here as the Prince, the representative of the country. Even if the shoes didn’t fit anymore.

“No, I don’t,” he said, and tried so hard not to look at Jonghyun. The woman stood. He couldn’t tell if she had picked up how fake of an answer it was, or if she’d given up on reaching him. The shop was silent. Even the espresso machine paused in its hissing. 

She didn’t bother with a goodbye. 

The coffeeshop’s previous hush had been innocent, but now it had sharp edges. How many people had heard her? How many people agreed? 

The air around Minhyun thinned until it was brittle in his lungs. His fingertips tingled. Wind that Minhyun knew damn well wasn't natural brushed against the back of his neck. This was his magic, released into the air around him. It caressed his skin with the familiarity and boldness of an unexpected whisper in his ear. 

“Are you all right, Your Highness?” It was his security guard.

“Of course, I am.” Minhyun realized he had his hands crossed over his stomach and undid them, then sat up straight. “I’m fine.” He breathed out heavily, warm, and humid to dispel the thin, chilled air. 

“You seem shaken,” the man said, and Minhyun didn’t like that he could tell. He tried to wipe it all from his face, wipe everything from his face. He was safe here.

He couldn’t look around the coffee shop without wondering which of them knew he was magical. 

“I’m okay,” he said more firmly. “We’ll give it—another half hour, maybe?” He didn’t want to look like the question had made him run away. 

“If you say so.” The man pulled out his watch and gave it a cursory glance. Then he stood from the table and backed off. He didn’t bother to tuck the seat in. Minhyun scanned for the woman who’d left, but he couldn’t find her anywhere. 

No one approached. Minhyun’s hands tightened under the table, but above it, he kept his smile tightly against his lips. His eyes slid unwillingly to Jonghyun, only to see him standing, his book closed as he tucked his chair into the table. Already someone was heading toward his table to claim it.

Was Jonghyun... leaving? Except Jonghyun was heading toward Minhyun, slowing by his table. “Is this taken?” he asked. It took Minhyun a beat to comprehend the mostly one-handed signs, even with the way Jonghyun bolstered them with the hand holding the book. 

“Did you hear her?” Minhyun signed back. Relief flooded through him. He’d forgotten how much he treasured privacy at a moment’s notice. 

Jonghyun plopped into the seat. “You should tell me later.” 

Minhyun wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or upset that Jonghyun hadn’t caught the words. “What are you reading?” Minhyun signed. 

Jonghyun seemed thrown off by their silent conversation—Minhyun’s signs were much slower and shakier than his speaking, and he hadn’t used them at all with Jonghyun in the past few days—but Jonghyun rolled with it. Maybe he recognized, like Minhyun did, that if Jonghyun signed and Minhyun responded vocally, it suggested they knew each other. 

Jonghyun held the book up in response. 

_The Counterfeiters,_ it read. 

“Do you like it?” 

“The cover is pretty?” he signed, and Minhyun had to choke down a small laugh. 

He then went on to explain—complain, more accurately—about the book, which he’d apparently chosen by random off Minhyun's shelves. By the end of it, Minhyun could breathe again. The air was warm with the coffeeshop’s bustle. His magic no longer clung closer than his own shadow under the yellow-tinged lights.

“Thank you,” Minhyun signed. 

“Are you okay now?” 

Minhyun nodded, and Jonghyun slipped from the seat. He took the book with him, and settled back into his seat from before. The ten minutes of reprieve had calmed the atmosphere well. Students focused on their papers again, and Minhyun could breathe deeply once more. 

The remaining time marched slowly by. Another request for a photo, several more ‘secret’ photos taken of him, and a quick conversation about educational opportunities for low-income students. Minhyun was ready and willing for all of it, though he functioned with half a brain. The other half was filled with magic. 

Soon enough, Minhyun was on his way back to the police station, filling out some quick paperwork, thanking those involved, and finally returning to the coffeeshop. Jonghyun met him on the sidewalk, and got in the car without fuss. 

“So what did you think?” Minhyun said. 

“I think you keep this book for show and have never tried to read it.” 

Minhyun laughed, and a wave of gratefulness shot through him. He’d never brought anyone to an event like this, but already it was hard to picture doing one without Jonghyun at his side. 

Jonghyun didn’t ask him anymore more about the girl, and Minhyun couldn’t be more thankful about that, too. Minhyun had played the role of the Prince well there, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d failed.

“So what do you want to do now?” Minhyun asked. They crossed the vestibule and slipped off their shoes. Minhyun locked the door behind them. The sparsely decorated apartment was a comfort. Minhyun lit one of his candles.

“Let’s order food,” Jonghyun suggested. “I don’t feel like cooking.”

Minhyun hummed. Finding out Jonghyun could cook—like, actually cook—in the past couple days had been shocking. The kitchenware had gotten more use in the past few days than ever before. After Minhyun had had to say goodbye to Aaron, Minki, and Dongho--Aaron and Minki because they needed to get back to the kids they were helping, and Dongho because he couldn't leave his work behind forever--he'd assumed he and Jonghyun would be back to cheap takeout. Instead, Jonghyun had taken him to a grocery store.

“You pick,” Minhyun said. The first day Jonghyun had gone with him, Minhyun had realized Jonghyun floundered on small decisions, even seeming surprised when Minhyun asked. Worried that Jonghyun thought Minhyun didn’t see him as an equal, Minhyun had confronted Jonghyun over it, only for Jonghyun to admit that not speaking had often regulated him to only agreeing or disagreeing with others' opinions. He hadn’t said anything about liking the change, but Minhyun had noticed he tended to smile when Minhyun pushed him to decide small things.

A half-hour later, and they both had platefuls of pizza. They ate in silence, partially because the food was good, and partially because Jonghyun’s hands were too busy to sign. It wasn’t until they were washing the dishes that conversation started again. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jonghyun asked. He flung a water droplet at Minhyun by accident. 

“Huh?” Minhyun still had a dish in his hand. He added it to the drying rack. 

“The girl from today.” 

No, Minhyun didn’t want to talk about it. Jonghyun steadfastly believed that Minhyun’s magic would soon be common knowledge—had to be common knowledge—and Minhyun wasn’t dumb. No matter how they’d acted these past couple days, his and Jonghyun’s relationship depended firmly on Minhyun’s actions here. 

He didn’t want to admit he’d messed up.

“Let’s watch a movie then,” Jonghyun suggested. He was watching Minhyun worriedly, and how Minhyun could drown in his own guilt. 

Minhyun had vetoed playing it on the large television, but hadn’t realized what that meant until Jonghyun suggested they watch it on Minhyun’s laptop and from Minhyun’s bed. This wasn’t the first time Minhyun had panicked like that; he’d protested against Jonghyun sleeping on the small couch two days ago, and it had ended with Jonghyun sharing his bed. They’d had no issues on that front; Minhyun’s bed was giant. They’d fallen asleep on opposite sides, and woken up still apart. 

The movie was different. Jonghyun made him pick it; Minhyun chose a romantic comedy with a title he recognized but had never watched. They sat next to each other up by the headboard, and Minhyun was hopelessly aware of every time Jonghyun brushed against him. 

The movie took off, and Minhyun divided his time between watching it and watching Jonghyun react to it. If Jonghyun felt his eyes, he didn’t say, but that might have been because he’d have to twist around to sign anything. 

The day had been surprisingly long. It had begun with Minhyun dropping Jonghyun off at the coffee shop, then going to the nearest police station, as he had to be escorted to public events. Talking to citizens was always rewarding, but also exhausting. You had to keep on your toes. 

Jonghyun shrugged his shoulder, and only then did Minhyun realize he’d been leaning into Jonghyun. He jerked back upright, blinking fast. He didn’t remember closing his eyes. 

Minhyun caught a flash of Jonghyun’s smile, and his eyes followed Jonghyun’s hand, expecting him to sign something. Instead, Jonghyun gently led Minhyun’s head back to his shoulder. 

It seemed like only seconds later that Jonghyun started squirming, and Minhyun wrapped his arms around him to still him. That only led Jonghyun to move more, and right as Minhyun opened his bleary eyes—it had only been a minute, hadn’t it?—Jonghyun flicked him hard on the forehead. 

Minhyun yelped and jerked awake, his hand darting to his head and nearly smacking Jonghyun on the way there. “What was that for?”

Jonghyun pushed his vibrating phone into his hand in response, and Minhyun’s heart dropped when he saw Sunhwa’s name on the front. She almost never called him. 

“Hello?” he croaked into the phone. Okay, he’d definitely slept for a while. The movie had stopped, even. Why hadn’t Jonghyun woken him? 

“Minhyun,” Sunhwa said, and if Minhyun had had any misconceptions that this call was about something good, they vanished there. 

“What’s up?” he asked, in a valiant attempt to play casual. 

“I thought you wouldn’t answer.” 

Minhyun couldn’t place her tone as anything but ‘off.’ This didn’t bode well.

“I saw the article," Sunhwa said. 

Fuck. “I know I didn’t handle it the best, but she caught me—”

“You’re with him now, aren’t you?” 

"What?" Minhyun realized belatedly that he'd assumed what the article was about. Jonghyun was doing that thing where you tried to focus on anything else but the thing you desperately wanted to listen in on. "I have no idea what you're talking about." 

“The article, Minhyun!” Sunhwa snapped. “The fucking paper might not have recognized him, but did you think I wouldn’t?”

“Sunhwa, I haven’t seen it,” Minhyun spoke lowly. He was starting to guess what it was about, but this was too delicate for guesswork. 

Sunhwa’s words ran together, despite the calming breath she took beforehand. “Half the internet’s trying to figure out who the hell was with you. There’s a video of you using sign language.” 

“He was a student,” Minhyun said instantly. Jonghyun gave up on pretending he wasn’t listening. Minhyun slipped out of the bed and stood. 

“‘You should tell me later’” Sunhwa mocked. “Did you think no one else could understand you?”

Minhyun’s heart dropped. He…hadn’t thought of that. Shit. 

“What’s going on?” Jonghyun signed, but it wasn’t like Minhyun could answer him. Minhyun held a finger up in a gesture anyone could recognize: wait. 

Jonghyun grimaced. Another gesture anyone could recognize. Hands twisted behind his back, he started to pace.

“Well?” Sunhwa demanded. “I can’t believe you took your fucking magical boyfriend in with you—what’s his name again?”

“He wasn’t—we weren’t going to talk while there.” The excuses were weak even to Minhyun’s ears. He'd forgotten that he'd let Sunhwa assume his and Jonghyun's relationship previously. “The girl—”

“What’s going on with you?” The words had an extra emphasis on them, as Sunhwa’s anger broke. She continued with a softer, “I don’t understand you at all anymore.”

Lies as slick as black ice were at the tip of Minhyun’s tongue, but he clamped down on them. He’d spent half the evening stewing in guilt over not admitting he was magical to a stranger. Minhyun made a lot of mistakes, but he tried to not make the same ones twice.

“We’re a team, right?” he asked. He’d meant for his voice to come out even, but it had a roughness to it. These words were torn straight out of his esophagus. Minhyun and Sunhwa, planned from the beginning to work as a team to rule the country, no matter that Sunhwa was the one who’d truly wear the crown. 

“You haven’t been acting like one.”

“I’ll tell you everything,” Minhyun said. “But you have to _promise me—”_

“You’re scaring me, Minhyun.” 

“Promise me we’re a team.” He wouldn’t budge on this. Jonghyun had paused in his pacing. He stared blatantly. 

“I couldn't do it without you,” Sunhwa admitted. Then, “you’re involved in something bad, aren’t you?” 

“You won’t like what I tell you.” If magic was a part of him, did that count as him being ‘involved’ with it? 

Silence over the phone, for so long Minhyun fought the urge to check if she was still on the other side. 

“When?” Sunhwa asked finally. 

“In three days I’m speaking at the museum opening,” Minhyun said. “After that… I promised Detective Moon I’d go back.” 

“In three days then,” Sunhwa surmised. “This isn’t something you should say over a telephone.”

She had the right and wrong idea. The extra privacy was good, but it wasn’t because Minhyun was going to admit to corruption or any of the normal trouble politicians got into. For now, Minhyun let her believe her own conclusions. He needed her to see his face before he risked her condemning him for his magic. 

Sunhwa hung up, and Minhyun let his phone slowly drop from his ear, until it rested face down on his bed, Minhyun’s hand still on top of it. This was it, then. He would tell her before anyone else had a chance to expose his secret.

In the silence, Jonghyun moved his hand to sit on Minhyun’s. His palm was warm, his skin rough where the scar cut across. 

Minhyun hoped this was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cant believe i based the scene of minhyun at the coffeeshop on that one time i saw joe biden do the same thing

**Author's Note:**

> im super excited to start this!! Though I'm pretty busy rn, so updates might be slow.
> 
> i live on [ twitter](https://twitter.com/onlystr84jongup) and [ curiouscat ](https://curiouscat.me/onlystr84jongup) if you want to talk, and I appreciate all kudos and comments!


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